Skip to main content

Full text of "Dog stories, from the "Spectator";"

See other formats





" Mr. St. Loe Strachey has here collected a very interesting series of 
anecdotes." Times. 

" The book is sure of a warm welcome." Athenaeum. 

" The book is interesting to all lovers of dogs, and their name is 
legion, and there are statements in its pages which might profitably 
engage the attention of men of science and students of philosophy. 
' Dog Stories ' ought to gallop with the swiftness of a greyhound into a 
second edition." Speaker. 

"An amusing book, which is certain to find a welcome, at all 
events at the hands of two men out of three." Standard. 

" The book will be of real interest to all who care for dogs or the 
study of character in general." Morning Post. 

" The contents of this book are entertaining and remarkable." 

Daily Telegraph. 

" The ' Dog Stories ' collected from the Spectator, and with an in- 
troduction written by J. St. Loe Strachey, are indeed most delightful, 
and a collection of tales that all dog-lovers will be sure to appreciate 
and enjoy." Gentlewoman. 

"Of real importance to students of the instincts and habits of 
animal*." Nature. 

" Suggestive and profoundly interesting. Mr. Strachey has done 
his task well." Admiralty and Horse Guards Gazette. 

" These are extraordinary and well-authenticated anecdotes, which 
will doubtless be eagerly read by lovers of pets, and students of animal 
life." Christian World. 

"This is certainly the best collection of dog stories that has ever 
been published." Star. 

" Alike provocative of wonder, laughter and tears." 

N.B. Daily Mail. 







Second and Enlarged Edition. 


' Sir, to leave things out of a book, 

merely because people tell you they 

will not be believed, is meanness." 

(Dr. Johnson.) 

All rights reserved. 





SYLLOGISTIC DOGS . . . . . 1$ 



DOGS AND THE ARTS . . . . Iig 

DOG FRIENDSHIPS . . . . .13! 


USEFUL DOGS. ..... 177 

MISCELLANEOUS . . . . . .193 







THE kindness with which " Dog Stories 
from the Spectator" has been received by 
the public, has made it necessary to issue a 
second edition. This affords me an oppor- 
tunity of including some further examples of 
intelligence in dogs which have appeared in 
the Spectator since the formation of the 
original collection. Some of these new 
stories, it will I think be agreed, are quite 
as good as any of those previously published. 
Of very special interest are the anecdotes 
which I have placed together under the title 
of " Dogs and Human Speech." If we accept 
these stories as trustworthy, they seem to 
ieave little doubt that many dogs are very 
far advanced in the understanding of human 
language. If, however, we reject this, the 


simple and straightforward explanation of 
the evidence afforded by the letters, we must 
choose one or other of the following solutions 
of the problem. These stories may of course 
all be (i) hoaxes ; (2) instances of faulty 
observation ; (3) coincidences, i.e., the chance 
linking of the utterance of certain words 
with certain acts by dogs, though in reality 
the words and acts had nothing to do with 
each other ; (4) hallucination on the part of 
the reporters they were so convinced that 
the dogs could understand, that they ima- 
gined the dogs to do things which in reality 
they never did. Now, it must be observed 
that each of these explanations would be, 
primd facie, perfectly tenable if there were 
only one story of a dog understanding human 
speech. But it is difficult to see how any of 
them will hold good for all the instances re- 
corded, both in the new and in the old portion 
of the present book. It cannot seriously be 
maintained that all the stories are hoaxes, 
or that all the reporters were incapable 
of relating what they saw, or, again, that 
all the facts stated were due to mere co- 


incidence or to hallucination. As far as 
I can see, the evidence shows that dogs 
do understand a good deal of human 
speech, though how they learn it remains a 
mystery. But in reality, and in practice, 
everyone admits this ability to understand 
human speech in the dog, though strenu- 
ous protests in the name of common-sense 
are made the moment anyone ventures to 
face the fact and put it boldly forward. 
Nobody doubts that a dog knows his own 
name and answers to it when called. But 
what is this but understanding human 
speech ? If every dog can do this, why 
should not some dogs of exceptional quick- 
ness learn more than the one word, and so 
get a wider knowledge of human speech? 
Surely it is only the first word that matters. 
After that, knowing the whole dictionary is 
only a matter of degree. But though dogs 
seem able to understand our language, it is 
very curious to notice how utterly we fail to 
understand theirs. This point has been 
touched on by that able and eminent Judge 
of the Queen's Bench Division, Sir Henry 


Hawkins. In a letter by him, printed in 
a little pamphlet which contains the bio- 
graphy of his fox-terrier Jack, Sir Henry 
Hawkins declares that his dog " understood 
all I said to him as though I spoke his own 
language, which not being accomplished 
enough to converse in I nevertheless 
thoroughly understood." Now, with all due 
deference to the learned Judge, I doubt very 
much whether he did understand Jack half 
as well as Jack understood him. If he did, 
he was certainly exceptionally fortunate. 
Men who own dogs no doubt get to know 
roughly what a bark at this or that time is 
likely to mean, but they seldom go further 
than this. Who ever heard two dogs bark- 
ing together and understood that Jack was 
saying to Grip, " I mean to run away to- 
morrow ? " Yet as much as this ought to be 
understood by the man who would under- 
stand dog talk, as well as the probationary 
fox-terrier in the story headed "The Dog 
that heard he did not give satisfaction " a 
story which is to be found among the new 
anecdotes at the end of the present volume. 


Depend upon it, even Sir Henry Hawkins 
has not yet reached that pitch of knowledge, 
and though he doubtless understood Jack 
better than anyone else, I feel sure that Jack, 
as I have said, took in much more of his 
conversation than he did of Jack's. But it 
is far easier to point out our ignorance of 
dog language, than to suggest a means for 
surmounting that ignorance. Dogs are not 
like apes or rooks, of a conversational turn, 
and though they clearly communicate a great 
deal to each other, it is difficult to see how 
their language is to be studied. I doubt if 
the American professor's plan would be of 
much use, or if phonography in the kennels 
would give us any facts to work on. 

Among the new stories in the present 
edition will be found a further series illustrat- 
ing the power of dogs to feel the emotions of 
grief and of devotion for each other. There 
are also some interesting letters making up a 
fairly complete biography of Bob, the Austra- 
lian Railway dog. Under the heading " More 
Miscellaneous," will be found some exceed- 
ingly strange and amusing stories. The story 


of the Religious Dog and the Pagan Cat is 
quite excellent as a piece of humour, while 
the Praying Dog suggests a strange picture 
of sanctimonious canine priggishness. Crib's 
biography is also not a little curious. I have 
only to add my reason for not distributing 
the new stories as far as possible under their 
appropriate headings in the body of the book. 
This would, I admit, have been the logical 
and natural course. There were, however, 
two objections. First, there exist, I am 
given to understand, typographical difficulties 
which, if not insurmountable, are serious. 
Next, a reader of the first edition who might 
come across the second and wish to see what 
was fresh, would be much puzzled to get at 
the new stuff. It would therefore probably 
be his wish that the added stories should be 
grouped together at the end. But a reader 
of the first edition is clearly an old friend, 
and must have his wishes consulted, espe- 
cially when doing so does not interfere with 
the enjoyment of him who reads for the first 
time in the second issue of these stories. 



THE following Dog Stories are taken from 
the pages of the Spectator, with the per- 
mission of the editors and proprietors. 
It was suggested to me by Mr. Fishei 
Unwin that the many strange and pleasant 
stories of dogs which from time to time 
are sent to the Spectator by its corre- 
spondents would, if put together, form a 
volume of no little entertainment for all 
who love dogs, or are interested in stories 
of animal intelligence. Up till now the 
Spectator dog stories, after the week of 
their publication, have practically been in- 
accessible to the general reader ; for he is a 
bold man who will attack a bound volume 
of a newspaper in search of amusement. 
Though I at once agreed that the suggested 


book would be a very readable one, and 
likely to please dog-lovers all the world 
over, I did not, till the selection was nearly 
made, realise how much the stories gain by 
being grouped together. A single story 
of a clever dog may amuse, but it is liable 
to be put aside as an accident, a coincidence, 
a purely exceptional circumstance which 
proves nothing. If, however, instead of 
a single story we have half a dozen illus- 
trating the same form of intelligence, the 
value of the evidence is enormously in- 
creased, and a collection of dog stories 
may become of very great value in deter- 
mining such questions as the power of dogs 
to act on reason as well as on instinct, 
or their ability to understand human lan- 
guage. The solution of these problems is, I 
cannot help thinking, materially advanced 
by the stories in the present book. Take, 
again, the group of stories which I have 
labelled Purchasing Dogs. One sample of 
this kind might, as I have noted above, be 
put off as a case of imperfect observation, 
or as a curious coincidence ; but when we 


get a whole group of stories it becomes very 
difficult to doubt that dogs may learn the 
first principles of the science of exchange. 
The Italian dog (page 59) which did the 
narrator a service by fetching him cigars, 
demanded payment in the shape of a penny, 
and then used that penny by exchanging it 
for a loaf, was far advanced in the practice 
of Political Economy. He not only under- 
stood and acted on an implied contract, 
but realised the great fact at the back of 
the currency. " What are guineas," said 
Home Tooke, " but tickets for sheep and 
oxen!" The Italian dog did not, like a 
savage, say, " What is the use of copper to 
me, I cannot eat it?" Instead, he perceived 
that the piece of copper was a ticket for 
bread. It should be noted too that this 
dog, the dog called Hardy (page 57) and 
others, were able to distinguish between 
the pieces of copper given them. Again, 
the Glasgow story (page 53) shows that a 
dog can learn to realise that a halfpenny 
will buy not merely one thing but several 
things in fact, that the great advantage of 


exchange by currency over barter is that 
it gives you a choice. While on the subject 
of purchasing dogs, it is curious to reflect 
how very little is wanted to convert the dog 
that is able to purchase into a free agent. 
If a dog can exchange his faculty for cigar 
carrying or his tricks against half-pence, 
why should he not exchange useful services, 
such as guarding a house or herding sheep, 
and so become self-supporting ? Imagine a 
collie paid by the day, and, when his work 
was over, receiving twopence and going oft 
to buy his supper. But the vista opened is 
too far-reaching. One sees down it dogs 
paid by the hour and by the piece, and then 
dogs asking for better pay and shorter hours, 
and, finally, dogs on strike, and dog " black- 
legs," or "free dogs." 


A word should be said as to the authenticity 
of the stories in the present volume. It is 
a matter of common form for the evening 
newspapers to talk of the Spectator dog 
stories as hoaxes, and to refer in their 


playful, way to " another Spectator dog." 
It might not then unnaturally have been 
supposed that a person undertaking to edit 
and reprint these stories would have found 
a considerable number that showed signs 
of being hoaxes. I may confess, indeed, 
that I set out with the notion of forming 
a sort of Appendix to the present work, 
which should be headed " Ben Trovato," 
in which should be inserted stories which 
were too curious and amusing to be left 
out altogether, but which, on the other 
hand, were what the Americans call a little 
" too tall " to be accepted as genuine. The 
result of my plan was unexpected. Though 
I found many stories in which the inferences 
seemed strained or mistaken, and others 
which contained indications of exaggeration, 
I could find but two stories which could 
reasonably be declared as only suitable for 
a " Ben Trovato." I therefore suppressed 
my heading. The truth is that the animal 
stories are much more carefully sifted at 
the Spectator office than our witty critics 
and contemporaries will admit. No stories 


are ever published unless the names and 
addresses of the writers are supplied, and all 
stories are rejected which have anything 
clearly suspicious about them. What the 
editors of the Spectator do not do is to reject 
a dog-story because it states that a dog has 
been observed to do something which has 
never been reported as having been done 
by a dog before, or at any rate, something 
which is not universally admitted to be doable 
by a dog. Apparently this willingness to 
print stories which enlarge our notions of 
animal intelligence is regarded in certain 
quarters as a sign that the Spectator will 
swallow anything, and that its stories must 
be apocryphal. I cannot, however, help 
thinking that all who care for the advance- 
ment of knowledge in regard to animals 
should be grateful to the editors of the 
Spectator for not adopting the plan of ex- 
cluding all dog stories that do not correspond 
with an abstract ideal of canine intelligence. 
Had they acted on the principle of putting 
every anecdote that seemed prima facie un- 
likely into the waste- paper basket, they would 


certainly have missed a great many stories of 
real value. In truth, there is nothing so cre- 
dulous as universal incredulity. An attitude 
of general incredulity means a blind belief 
in the existing state of opinion. If we 
believe that animals have no reasoning 
power, and refuse to examine evidence that 
is brought to show the contrary, we are 
adopting, the attitude of those who disbelieve 
that the earth goes round the sun because 
they seem daily to see a proof of an exactly 
opposite proposition. If people are to refuse 
to believe anything of a dog that does not 
sound likely on the face of it, we shall never 
get at the truth about animal intelligence. 
What is wanted is the careful preservation 
and collection of instances of exceptional in- 


Before I conclude this Introduction, I 
should like to address a word of apology 
to the correspondents of the Spectator whose 
letters form the present volume. Though the 
copyright of the letters belongs to the editors 


and proprietors of the Spectator I should 
have liked to ask the leave of the various 
writers before republishing their letters. 
Physical difficulties have, however rendered 
this impossible. In the case of nearly half 
the letters the names and addresses have not 
been preserved. In many instances, again, 
only the names remain. Lastly, a large 
number of the letters are ten or twelve, or 
even twenty years old, and the writers may 
therefore be dead or out of England. Under 
these circumstances I have not made any 
effort to enter into communication with the 
writers before including their letters in this 
book. That their permission would have been 
given, had it been asked, I do not doubt. The 
original communication of the letters to the 
Spectator is proof that the writers wished a 
public use to be made of the anecdotes they 
relate. As long, then, as the letters are not 
altered or edited, but produced verbatim, 
I may, I think, feel assured that I am doing 
nothing which is even remotely discourteous 
to the writers. 




[Aug. 4, 1888.] 

DURING a recent journey in Canada, I met 
with a striking instance of reason in a dog. 
I was staying at the Mohawk Indian Insti- 
tution, Brantford, Ontario. The Rev. R. 
Ashton, superintendent of the school, is also 
incumbent of the neighbouring Mohawk 
Church (the oldest Protestant church in 
Canada). Mr. Ashton is very fond of 
animals, and has many pets. One of these, 
a black-and-tan terrier, always accompanies 
the ninety Indian children to church on 
Sunday morning. He goes to the altar-rails, 
and lies down facing the congregation. 
When they rise to sing, he rises ; and when 
they sit, he lies down. One day, shortly 
before my visit, a stranger-clergyman was 
preaching, and the sermon was longer than 
usual. The dog grew tired and restless, and 
at last a thought occurred to him, upon 


which he at once acted. He had observed 
that one of the elder Indian boys was accus- 
tomed to hand round a plate for alms, after 
which the service at once concluded. He 
evidently thought that if he could persuade 
this boy to take up the collection, the sermon 
must naturally end. He ran down to the 
back seat occupied by the boy, seated him- 
self in the aisle, and gazed steadfastly in the 
boy's face. Finding that no notice was 
taken, he sat up and "begged" persistently 
for some time, to Mr. Ashton's great amuse- 
ment. Finally, as this also failed, the dog 
put his nose under the lad's knee, and tried 
with all his strength to force him out of his 
place, continuing this at intervals till the 
sermon was concluded. 

Did not this prove a distinct power of 
consecutive reasoning ? 

A. H. A. 



\July 7, 1888.] 

YOUR dog-loving readers may be interested 
in the following instance of animal sagacity. 
Bob is a fine two-year-old mastiff, with 
head and face of massive strength, heightened 
by great mildness of expression. One day 
he was seen carrying a hen, very gently, in 
his mouth, to the kennel. Placing her in 
one corner, he stood sentry while she laid 
an egg, which he at once devoured. From 
that day the two have been fast friends, the 
hen refusing to lay anywhere but in " Bob's " 
kennel, and getting her reward in the dainty 
morsels from his platter. There must have 
been a bit of canine reasoning here. " Bob" 
must have found eggs to his liking, that they 
were laid by hens, and that he could best 
secure a supply by having a hen to himself. 



[Feb. 20, 1875.] 

A PATIENT recently consulted me who was 
blind and subject to fits. I pointed out to 
her friends the danger to which she was 
exposed in case a fit came on when she was 
in the vicinity of a fire, and they informed 
me that she incurred little or no risk, because 
a favourite dog ran at once and fetched 
assistance the moment a fit came on. This 
intelligent animal would rush into the next 
house barking eagerly, would seize the dress 
of the woman who lived there, and drag her 
to the assistance of his mistress. If one did 
not go, he would seize another, and exhibited 
the most lively symptoms of distress until his 
object was accomplished. 



[Sept. i, 1888.] 

THE following incident in dog-life may per- 
haps find a place in the Spectator. I quote 
from a letter received a few days ago from 
my nephew, " T. G. T.," resident in South 
Africa : " Johannesburg, Traansvaal. My 
dog Cherry has had three great pups, and 
I had to leave her behind at the Grange. 
When I was going away, Cherry and the 
pups were located in some stables. She 
came out and watched the tent-truck and 
my things packed up. Presently I went 
away, and when I came back I found 
Cherry had carried all the pups on to the 
top of my luggage, and evidently had not 
the least intention of staying behind." 

T. W. T. 



\June 26, 1875.] 

DR. WALTER F. ATLEE writes to the editor 
of the Philadelphia Medical Times : 

" In a letter recently received from Lan- 
caster, where my father resides, it is said : 
1 A queer thing occurred just now. Father 
was in the office, and heard a dog yelping 
outside the door ; he paid no attention until 
a second and louder yelp was heard, when 
he opened it, and found a little brown dog 
standing on the step upon three legs. He 
brought him in, and on examining the fourth 
leg, found a pin sticking in it. He drew out 
the pin, and the dog ran away again.' The 
office of my father, Dr Atlee, is not directly 
on the street, but stands back, having in 
front of it some six feet of stone wall with 
a gate. I will add, that it has not been 
possible to discover anything more about 
this dog. 

" This story reminds me of something 
similar that occurred to me while studying 
medicine in this same office nearly thirty 


years ago. A man, named Cosgrove, the 
keeper of a low tavern near the railroad 
station, had his arm broken, and came many 
times to the office to have the dressings 
arranged. He was always accompanied by 
a large, most ferocious-looking bull-dog, that 
watched me most attentively, and most un- 
pleasantly to me, while bandaging his 
master's arm. A few weeks after Cosgrove's 
case was discharged, I heard a noise at the 
office door, as if some animal was pawing it, 
and on opening it, saw there this huge bull- 
dog, accompanied by another dog that held 
up one of its front legs, evidently broken. 
They entered the office. I cut several 
pieces of wood, and fastened them firmly 
to the leg with adhesive plaster, after 
straightening the limb. They left imme- 
diately. The dog that came with Cosgrove's 
dog I never saw before nor since." 

Do not these stories adequately show that 
the dogs reasoned and drew new inferences 
from a new experience ? 



{April 6, 1889.] 

KNOWING your interest in dogs, I venture to 
send you the following story. A week or 
two ago, the porter of the Bristol Royal 
Infirmary was disturbed one morning about 
6.30 by the howling of a dog outside the 
building. Finding that it continued, he went 
out and tried to drive it away ; but it re- 
turned and continued to howl so piteously, 
that he was obliged to go out to it again. 
This time he observed that one of its paws 
was injured. He therefore brought it in 
and sent for two nurses, who at once dressed 
the paw, and were rewarded by every canine 
sign of gratitude, including much licking of 
their hands. The patient was " retained " 
for two days, during which time he received 
every attention from those inside the house, 
and from the neighbours outside, who quickly 
heard of the case. As no one appeared to 
claim the dog, he was sent to the Home for 
Lost Dogs in the city, where so interesting 
an animal was, of course, not long in finding 
a purchaser. The dog was one of those 
called " lurchers." 


I have myself called on the porter of the 
infirmary for confirmation of the story, and 
am assured by him of its truth. How did 
an apparently friendless dog know where to 
go for surgical aid ? The case differs from 
that of the dog which took its friend for 
treatment to King's College Hospital in 
London, for I understand that the King's 
College dog had previously been taken to 
the hospital for treatment itself ; but in this 
case there is no such clue. 




[June 10, 1876.] 

FOR some time past I have noticed in your 
journal letters and articles referring to the 
wonderful powers of dogs. As I was myself 
much struck by many features in the cha- 
racter of a dog which I knew, illustrating, as 
I think, not only affection, but reasoning 
faculties, I shall acquaint you with a few of 
these, believing that they may be interesting, 
at least to all admirers of that noble animal. 

The dog of which I speak was a terrier. 
It showed its affection in the most marked 
manner in several ways. Every morning, as 
soon as it got out of the kitchen, it came 
to its master's door, and if not admitted and 
caressed about the usual hour, gave evident 
signs of impatience. It would lie quiet till it 
thought the time had arrived, but never 
longer. Afterwards it went to the breakfast- 
room, and occupied its master's chair till he 
arrived. On one occasion a visitor was in 
the house, who, coming first into the room, 


ordered the dog to come off the best chair. 
To this it paid no attention, and when 
threatened with expulsion, at once prepared 
for defence. But as soon as its master 
appeared it resigned its place voluntarily, 
and quietly stretched itself on the rug at his 

At another time it was left for three weeks 
during its master's absence from home. It 
saw him leave in a steamer, and every day 
until his return it repaired to the quay upon 
the arrival of the same boat, expecting him 
to come again in the one by which he had 
gone. It distinguished between a number of 
boats, always selecting the right one and the 
right hour. 

One evening it accompanied its master 
when he went to gather mussels for bait. 
As the tide was far in, few mussels remained 
uncovered ; and after collecting all within 
reach, more were required. A large bunch 
lay a few feet from the water's edge, but 
beyond reach ; yet as the dog was not one 
of those who take the water to fetch, its 
master had no expectation that it would 


prove useful on the present occasion. Seeing 
him looking at the mussels, however, it first 
took a good look at those in the basket, and 
then, without being directed at all, went into 
the water. Selecting the right bunch from 
amongst the stones and wreck with which it 
was surrounded, it brought it to land, and 
laid it at its master's feet. This, I think, is 
a proof of reason, rather than of instinct. 
The dog had never been trained to go into the 
sea, and would not probably have brought 
out the mussels had it not seen that they 
were wanted. 

It showed wonderful instinct, however, 
just before the death of one of its pups, and 
before its own death. Its pup had not been 
thriving, and the mother gave unmistakable 
proof that she foresaw its death. She dug a 
grave for it and put it in. Nor, when it was 
removed, would she let it lie beside her, but 
immediately dug another grave, where she 
was less likely to be disturbed. Upon the 
day of her own death, also, she used what 
strength she had to dig her grave, in which 
she lay, preferring to die in it, than in what 


would seem to most a place of greater 
comfort. 1 

These may not be singular incidents, but 
they are still remarkable and worthy of 
notice. They serve to show us the wonder- 
ful nature of man's faithful friend, the dog, 
and how he has many traits of character 
fitted to make him the worthy receiver of 
kindness and respect. 


1 It is difficult to accept T.'s explanation of the 
dog's object in digging. Possibly its aim was to 
obtain warmth or shelter. 



[Aug. 29, 1874.] 

I SEE that you welcome all notes of interest 
upon our fellow-beings, the dogs. Here is 
one that seems to prove they have a sense of 
time and of distance as measured by time. 

I was walking with my bull-terrier, Bully 
(seven years old last Christmas), during a 
hot afternoon this month homewards along 
the Bund (Shanghai), and I suddenly missed 
him. I turned back for twenty or thirty 
yards, and, not finding him, I gave up the 
search, saying, "He knows the way home 
well enough." Presently I saw him on my 
right, dripping with water, cantering on at a 
round pace, without looking about him, 
homewards. I watched him, curious to see 
whether he would go straight home. No. 
He kept on till he reached the distance of 
about 150 yards, and looked ahead, not 
smelling the ground. He then deliberately 
walked back, catching sight of me in about 
twenty yards after his turning back, and 
wagged his tale recognisingly. He had 


evidently been to cool himself in the river 
(thirty yards to the right, it being low tide), 
and, thinking I would go on at the ordinary 
pace without him, he, after his bath, struck 
directly at a long diagonal for the point I 
would have reached rf I had not turned back 
to look for him. He did not seem to have 
the slightest misgiving as to his sense of the 
distance I ought to have walked during the 
time of his bath. His turning was done 
seemingly with a calm assurance of certainty. 
I may add that there were twenty to thirty 
foot-passengers scattered over the portion of 
road in question at the time, whose footsteps 
might have effaced my scent on the watered 
granite macadamised roadway, even sup- 
posing the dog to have tried his sense of 
smell, ivJiich he did not, as far as I could see, 
and I noticed him carefully. 

W. G. S. 



\July 24, 1886.] 

You often give us pleasant anecdotes of our 
four-footed friends. You may think the 
following worthy of record. I have a little 
dog, a not particularly well-bred fox-terrier. 
He is much attached to me, and shows by 
his obedience, and sometimes in his dis- 
obedience, that he understands a good deal. 
Yesterday I was away all day, and he, I am 
told, was very uneasy, and searched every- 
where for me. Every day at 5 p.m. I go to 
church. Toby seems to know this is not 
an ordinary walk, and never offers to come 
with me. But yesterday, when the bell 
began, he started off and took up his position 
by the vestry door. I believe he reasoned 
with himself, " There goes the bell ; now I 
shall catch the Vicar." 




\April ^ 1885.] 

READING from time to time many pleasant 
anecdotes in the columns of the Spectator 
which, by the way, I receive as regularly, 
and read as eagerly, as when resident in 
England many years ago relative to the 
sagacity of dogs, I send the following, think- 
ing it possible you may deem it worthy of 

Some three years ago I was " having a 
spell " in Brisbane, after a lengthened sojourn 
on a sheep station in the interior of Queens- 
land. During my stay in the city I had the 
good fortune to gain the friendship of a 
gentleman who owned a magnificent collie. 
My friend, his dog Sweep, and myself, 
were frequently together, engaged either in 
yachting among the islands of Moreton Bay, 
or 'possum hunting under the towering 
eucalypti which fringe the banks of the river 
Brisbane. Naturally "Sweep "(who was a 
most lovable animal) and myself soon began 
to entertain a warm friendship for one 



another, which friendship gave rise to the 
anecdote I am about to relate. Returning 
to my hotel about midnight from the house 
of a friend, I was not a little startled at find- 
ing my hand suddenly seized from behind by 
a dog, which, however, I at once recognised 
as my handsome acquaintance, Sweep. I 
patted him, at the same time endeavouring 
to withdraw the hand which he held firmly, 
but gently, between his teeth. It was of no 
use, as, in spite of all my endearments, he 
insisted on retaining his hold, wriggling along 
by my side, and vigorously wagging his tail, 
as though he would say, " Don't be afraid ; 
it's all right." We soon reached a point in 
the main street down which we were walk- 
ing, where a side avenue branched off 
towards the river. My way lay right ahead. 
Sweep, however, insisted on my taking 
the road which lay at a right-angle to my 
course. I felt some annoyance at his per- 
sistence, as I was both tired and sleepy; 
but, having no choice in the matter, I 
followed his lead. Having walked some two 
or three hundred yards down his street, he 


released his hold, dancing round me, then 
running on for a few yards and looking back 
to see if I were following. Becoming inte- 
rested, I determined to see what he was 
after, so, without further resistance, I 
followed submissively. At last, having 
reached the river, which at this place was 
about four hundred yards wide, he, with 
many joyous barks, ran down the ferry steps, 
and jumped into the empty boat of the ferry- 
man. At last I was able to guess at his 
motive for forcing me to follow him. His 
master, who lived across the river, had acci- 
dentally lost sight of his dog returning from 
his office in the city; and Sweep appeared 
to understand perfectly that unless the boat- 
man received his fare he, Sweep, would 
not be carried over, my friend frequently 
sending the dog over by himself when wish- 
ing to attend concerts, &c., invariably paying 
the fare as of an ordinary passenger. The 
ferryman, who at once recognised my canine 
friend, laughed heartily when I told him how 
I had been served, took my penny, and set 
off at once for " Kangaroo Point," Sweep 


gaily barking " good-night " until he reached 
the opposite bank. I heard subsequently 
that he used to swim the river when left 
behind ; but having had two narrow escapes 
from sharks, his nerves had become some- 
what shaken so far as water was concerned. 




\Nw. 13, 1875.] 

HAVING often read, with great pleasure, the 
anecdotes about dogs which from time to 
time appear in the Spectator, I venture to 
send you one which has come under my own 
observation, and which, it seems to me, 
shows an effort of reasoning implying two 
distinct ideas one the consequence of the 
other more interesting than many of those 
clever performances of educated dogs which 
may or may not be merely mechanical 

The dog who performed the following 
trick was then a great, half-grown, awkward 
puppy, whose education, up to that time, 
had been much neglected. It has been 
better attended to since, and now, although 
sportsmen probably consider such an animal 
sadly thrown away upon a lady, he is a very 
pleasant friend and companion. My two 
dogs, Guy and Denis, form as capital a pair, 
for contrast's sake, as one need wish to see. 
They are both handsome does of their kind 


Guy, a fine black retriever, with no white 
hair upon him, and, I believe, in the eyes of 
sportsmen, as well as those of his mistress, 
a very desirable possession, good-tempered, 
clever, and affectionate ; Denis, as naughty 
and spoilt a little fellow as ever existed, and 
a great pet, also black, except for his yellow 
paws and chest, but covered with long, loose 
locks, instead of Guy's small, crisp curls. 

Denis is exceedingly comic, and a constant 
source of amusement. He is very faithful to 
his mistress, whose bedside during illness he 
has refused to leave, even for food ; but it must 
be confessed that he is not amiably disposed 
towards most people, and is a perfect tyrant 
over the other animals. Some account of 
the two dogs' character is necessary, to ex- 
plain the little scene which took place 
between them one evening about a year 
ago. Guy, it must be premised, is at least 
twelve months younger than Denis, con- 
sequently, when the former first arrived a 
miserable and very ugly little puppy, a few 
weeks old, more like a small black jug than 
any known animal of the canine species, 


having had the mange, and lost all his hair 
Denis undertook his education, and ruled 
him so severely that his influence lasted a 
long while ; indeed, even after Guy had 
grown so big that Denis almost needed to 
stand upon his hind legs in order to snap 
at him, the great dog would crouch meekly 
at a growling remonstrance from the little 
master, and never dared to invade his rights 
to approach his plate of food, or to drink 
before him. Now a days Guy has dis- 
covered his own power, and although too 
good-natured an animal ever to ill-treat the 
little dog, no longer allows -any liberties, but 
at the same time, when the scene which I 
am about to describe took place, he was still 
under the impression that Denis's wrath was 
a terrible and dangerous matter. 

And now for my story, which, it seems to 
me, shows as much real reasoning power in 
an untrained animal as any anecdote that I 
ever read. One evening I took my two 
dogs to the kitchen, to give them the rare 
treat of a bone apiece. (Dogs were certainly 
never intended to make Natal their home, 


for, in order to keep them alive at all, they 
should never be given anything that they 
like, especially meat, and even then the most 
careful management often fails in preserving 
them from disease and death.) One of my 
sisters was with me, and together we watched 
the dogs over their supper. Guy, with his 
great mouth, and ravenous, growing appetite, 
made short work with his, every vestige of 
which had vanished ; while little Denis was 
still contentedly sucking away at his small 
share, not very hungry, and taking his 
pleasures sedately, like a gentleman, as he is. 
And then Guy began to watch the other with 
an envious eye, evidently casting about in 
his mind how he might gain possession o r 
that bone. He was even then, though not 
full grown, so big and strong that he could 
have taken it by force with the greatest ease ; 
but such an idea did not cross his mind ; he 
decided to employ stratagem to win the prize. 
I must mention here, that amongst other 
naughty practices of my dogs, is that of 
rushing out of the house and barking 
violently upon the slightest sound without. 


This is Denis's fault, which Guy, in spite of 
all my lessons, has contracted from him. 
With the evident intention of sending Denis 
out, Guy suddenly started up, and began to 
bark towards the door in an excited manner, 
but not running out himself, as he certainly 
would have done, had he really heard any- 
thing. Down went Denis's bone, and out 
rushed he, barking at the top of his voice. 
Did Guy follow him ? Oh, dear no ! he had 
no such intentions ; he sneaked up to Denis's 
bone immediately, picked it up, and ran to 
the other end of the room. But when he 
had got it, he did not know what to do with 
it ; there was no hiding-place for him there, 
and he dare neither await Denis's return 
openly, nor risk meeting him at the door. 
My sister and I were, by this time, both 
sitting on a bench against the wall, watching 
the scene between the dogs, and Guy, after 
running once round the room, with the bone 
in his mouth, came and crept in beneath my 
seat, where he was hidden by my dress, and 
where he lay, not eating the bone, and in 
perfect silence. Presently Master Denis 


trotted back, quite unconscious, and shaking 
the curls out of his eyes, as much as to say, 
" My dear fellow ! what a fuss you've made ; 
there's nothing there." He looked about for 
his bone for a few minutes, but soon gave up 
the search, and began to amuse himself with 
other things. After a while, I, forgetting the 
culprit beneath my seat, rose, and crossed the 
room, leaving him exposed. Guy was in a 
great fright ; he jumped up, and running to 
my sister, who was still seated, he stood up 
with his forepaws upon her lap, and the 
bone still untouched in his mouth, as though 
begging her protection. Denis, however, did 
not observe him, and after a few minutes, 
Guy's courage returned, and finally he 
ventured to lie down, with the bone between 
his paws, and began to gnaw it, keeping one 
eye fixed on Denis the while. This, how- 
ever, was going a step too far. Denis was 
attracted by the sound, and recognised his 
own bone the moment that he looked round. 
He marched up to Guy (who immediately 
stopped eating) and stood before him. 
Denis growled, and Guy slowly removed 


one great paw from his prize. Denis 
advanced a step, with another growl; Guy 
removed the other paw, and slunk back a 
little, whereupon Master Denis calmly walked 
up, took possession of his bone, and went off 
with it. 

I am bound, however, to remark that after 
another half-hour's contented amusement 
over it, he resigned the remainder, which 
was too hard for his small mouth, to Guy, 
who finished the last morsel with great satis- 
faction. Now that he is full grown, Guy still 
gives up to Denis in many little ways, but 
it is evidently through generosity only, for 
he has proved himself perfectly capable of 
taking his own part. But he is very gentle 
with his little playmate, except at night, 
when he lies across my door-way entirely 
of his own accord and will allow no one and 
nothing to enter without my command. 




[May 20, 1876.] 

As a subscriber to your journal, I have 
observed from time to time discussion on the 
" reasoning power of dogs." I will tell you 
what I observed to-day. In consequence of 
the Leve there was a great crowd in Pall 
Mall. I was invited by a friend to accom- 
pany him in his carriage from St. James's 
Palace down Pall Mall, when lo and behold, 
his dog, which usually runs with the carriage, 
insisting on getting in also. Nothing could 
induce him to get out, and whilst passing 
along Pall Mall he amused himself looking 
out of window at the police, soldiers, and 
crowd collected. When through, he was 
glad enough to get out again, and readily 
followed through the most frequented streets. 
Now, I have no doubt as to that dog's 
" reasoning power," respecting his ability to 
follow his carriage safely through the dense 
crowd collected around St. James's Palace 
and Marlborough House. 




[March 3, 1888.] 

ARE animals able to think over and carry out 
a plan? The following anecdotes will answer 
the question. When in India, I had a small 
rough terrier who, when given a bone, was 
sent to eat it on the gravel drive under an 
open porch in front of the bungalow. On 
several occasions two crows had made an 
attempt to snatch the dainty morsel, but their 
plans were easily defeated by Topsy's growls 
and snapping teeth. Away flew the crows to 
the branch of a tree near by. After a few 
moments of evident discussion, they pro 
ceeded to carry out the plan of attack. One 
crow flew down to the ground and gave a 
peck at the end of the dog's tail. Topsy at 
once turned to resent this attack in the rear, 
whilst the other crow flew down and bore the 
bone away in triumph. 

The same dog had a favourite resting- 
place in an easy-chair, and was very often 
deprived cf it by a dog which came as visitor 
to the house. Topsy did not approve of this, 


and her attempts to regain her seat were met 
with growls and bites. This justified an act 
of eviction, and the busy little brain decided 
on a plan. The next day, as usual, the 
intruder established himself in the chair, 
which was close to the open door. Topsy 
looked on for a moment, and then flew 
savagely out of doors, barking at a supposed 
enemy. Out ran the other dog to see what 
was up, and back came Topsy to take pos- 
session of her coveted seat. The other dog 
came slowly back, and curled himself up in 
a far-off corner. The above I was an eye- 
witness to, and therefore can vouch for the 
truth of what I relate. 

K. P. 



[Feb. 9, 1895.] 

IN illustration of the anecdotal letters about 
dogs and their habits, in the Spectator of 
February 2nd, and Mr. Lang's paper in this 
month's Nineteenth Century, I send you the 
following story of a dog which I had in 1851 
and for three years afterwards. He was a 
handsome Newfoundland dog, and one of the 
most intelligent animals with which it was 
ever my good luck to meet. I was living in 
a village about three miles from Dover, 
where I did all my shopping and marketing, 
being generally my own " carrier." Some- 
times Nep would carry home a small parcel 
for me, and always most carefully. On one 
occasion Nep was with me when I chose 
a spade, and asked the ironmonger to send 
it by the village carrier. The spade was put 
by, labelled and duly addressed. I went on 
to have a bathe, my dog going with me, but 
on finishing my toilet in the machine, and 
calling and whistling for Nep, he was no- 
where to be seen. He was not to be found 


at the stable where I had left my horse, but 
on calling at the ironmonger's shop I found 
he had been there and had carried off the 
spade which I had bought, balancing it 
carefully in his mouth. When I reached 
home, there Nep was, lying near his kennel 
in the stable-yard looking very fagged, but 
wearing a countenance of the fullest self- 
satisfaction, and evidently wishing me to 
think he had fulfilled his " dog-duty." My 
friend Mr. Wood, who was a thorough lover 
and admirer of dogs, was delighted to hear 
of his intelligent performance. 


P.S. I may add Nep always guarded me 
when bathing, and always went into the 
water with me, too, often uttering a peculiar 
kind of " howl." 



[May 26, 1877.] 

SOME time ago I sent you my recollections of 
a dog who knew a halfpenny from a penny, 
and who could count up as far as two (see page 
56). I have been able to obtain authentic 
information of a dog whose mental powers 
were still more advanced, and who, in his 
day, besides being celebrated for his abilities, 
was of substantial benefit to a charitable 
institution in his town. The dog I refer to 
was a little white fox-terrier, Prin by name, 
who lived at the Lion Hotel, at Kidder- 
minster, for three or four years ; but now, 
alas ! he is dead, and nothing remains of him 
but his head in a glass case. 

I had heard of this dog some months ago, 
but on Saturday last, having to make a visit 
to Kidderminster, I went to see him. The 
f acts I give about him are based on the 


statements of Mr. Lloyd, his master, and 
they are fully substantiated by the evidence 
of many others. I have before me a state- 
ment of the proceeds of " Dog Prin's box, 
Lion Hotel ; subscriptions to the Infirmary." 
The contributions began in September, 1874, 
and ended on April 25th, 1876, and during 
that period the sum of 1$ 143. 6d. was 
contributed through Prin's instrumentality. 

He began by displaying a fancy for play- 
ing with coins, not unusual amongst terriers, 
and he advanced to a discovery that he 
could exchange the coins for biscuits. He 
learnt that for a halfpenny he could get two 
biscuits, and for a penny, three ; and, having 
become able to distinguish between the two 
coins, it was found impossible to cheat him. 
If he had contributed a penny, he would not 
leave the bar till he had had his third biscuit ; 
and if there was nobody to attend to his 
wants, he kept the coin in his mouth till he 
could be served. Indeed, it was this per- 
sistence which ultimately caused poor Prin's 
death, for there is every reason to fear that 
he fell a victim to copper-poisoning. 


By a little training he was taught to place 
the coins, after he had got the biscuits, upon 
the top of a small box fixed on the wall, and 
they were dropped for him through a slot. 
He never objected to part with them in this 
way, and having received the quid pro quo, 
he gave complete evidence of his apprecia- 
tion of the honourable understanding which 
is so absolutely necessary for all commercial 

An authenticated case like this is of ex- 
treme value, for just as the elementary stages 
of any science or discovery are the most 
difficult and the slowest in accomplishment, 
so are the primary stages of all mental 
processes. To find the preliminary steps 
of the evolution of mathematics and com- 
merce in a dog is therefore a very important 
observation, and everything bearing on 
these early phases of intellect should be 
carefully recorded. LAWSON TAIT. 

{Feb. 10, 1877.] 

THE Spectator is always so kind to animals 
that I venture to send you the following 


story of a dog's sagacity, which may be 
depended upon as absolutely true: 

During the meeting of the British Asso- 
ciation at Glasgow, a friend of mine had 
occasion to go one day from that place to 
Greenock on business. Hearing, on his 
arrival, that the person he wished to see was 
out, but expected shortly to return home, he 
determined to take a stroll about the town, 
to which he was a stranger. In the course 
of his walk he turned into a baker's shop 
and bought a bun. As he stood at the door 
of the shop eating his bun, a large dog came 
up to him and begged for a share, which he 
got, and seemed to enjoy, coming back for 
piece after piece. " Does the dog belong 
to you ? " my friend asked of the shop- 
woman. " No," she answered, " but he 
spends most of his time here, and begs 
halfpennies from the people who pass.' 
" Halfpennies ! What good can they be to 
him?" "Oh, he knows very well what 
to do with them; he comes into the shop 
and buys cakes." 

This seemed rather a remarkable instance 


of cleverness even for the cleverest of 
animals, so, by way of testing its reality, 
my friend went out of the shop into the 
street, where he was immediately accosted 
by the dog, who begged for something with 
all the eloquence of which a dog is capable. 
He offered him a halfpenny, and was rather 
surprised to see him accept it readily, and 
walk, with the air of a regular customer, into 
the shop, where he put his forepaws on the 
counter, and held out the halfpenny towards 
the attendant. The young woman produced 
a bun, but that did not suit the dog, and he 
held his money fast. " Ah," she said, " I 
know what he wants," and took down from 
a shelf a plate of shortbread, This was 
right ; the dog paid his halfpenny, took his 
shortbread, and ate it with decorous satis- 
faction. When he had quite finished he 
left the shop, and my friend, much amused, 
followed him, and when he again begged 
found another halfpenny for him, and saw the 
whole process gone through a second time. 

This dog clearly had learned by some 
means the use of money, and not merely 


that it would buy something to eat, but that 
it would buy several things, among which he 
could exercise a right of choice. What is 
perhaps most remarkable is that his proceed- 
ings were entirely independent, and for his 
own benefit, not that of any teacher or 
master. A. L. W. 

[Feb. 17, 1877-] 

WHEN a student at Edinburgh, I enjoyed 
the friendship of a brown retriever, who 
belonged to a fishmonger in Lothion Street, 
and who was certainly the cleverest dog I 
have ever met with. He was a cleverer dog 
than the one described by "A. L. W." be- 
cause he knew the relative value of certain 
coins. In the morning he was generally to 
be seen seated on the step of the fishmonger's 
shop-door, waiting for some of his many 
friends to give him a copper. When he 
had got one, he trotted away to a baker's 
shop a few doors off, and dropped the coin 
on the counter. If I remember rightly (it 
is twelve or fifteen years ago), his weakness 
was "soda scones," Jf he dropped a half- 


penny on the counter he was contented with 
one scone, but if he had given a penny he 
expected two, and would wait for the second, 
after he had eaten the first, until he got it. 
That he knew exactly when he was entitled 
to one scone only, and when he ought to get 
two, is certain, for I tried him often. 


{Feb. 17, 1877.] 

IN the Spectator of the loth inst. a corre- 
spondent describes the purchase of cakes by 
a clever dog at Greenock. I should like to 
be allowed to help preserve the memory of 
a most worthy dog-friend of my youth, well 
remembered by many now living who knew 
Greenwich Hospital some thirty or five-and- 
thirty years ago. 

At that time there lived there a dog- 
pensioner called Hardy, a large brown 
Irish retriever. He was so named by Sir 
Thomas Hardy, when Governor (Nelson's 
Hardy), who at the same time constituted 
him a pensioner, at the rate of one penny 
per diem, for that he had one day saved a 
life from drowning just opposite the hospital. 


Till that time he was a poor stranger and 
vagrant dog friendless. But thenceforward 
he lived in the hospital, and spent his pension 
himself "at the butcher's shop, as he did also 
many another coin given to him by numerous 
friends. Many is the halfpenny which, as a 
child, I gave Hardy, that I might see him 
buy his own meat which he did with judg- 
ment, and a due regard to value. When a 
penny was given to him, he would, on 
arriving at the shop, place it on the counter 
and rest his nose or paw upon it until he 
received two halfpennyworths, nor would any 
persuasion induce him to give up the coin 
for the usual smaller allowance. I was a 
young child at the time, but I had a great 
veneration for Hardy, and remember him 
well, but lest my juvenile memory might 
have been in fault, I have, before writing 
this letter, compared my recollections with 
those of my elders, who, as grown people, 
knew Hardy for many years, and confirm 
all the above facts. There, indeed, was the 
right dog in the right place. Peace to his 
shade! J. D. C. 


[Feb. 7, 1885.] 

HAVE you room for one more dog story, 
which resembles one lately reported in a 
French journal ? A few years since I was 
sitting inside the door of a shop to escape 
from the rain while waiting for a trap to take 
me to the railway station in the old Etruscan 
city of Ferentino. Presently an ill-bred dog 
of the pointer kind came and sat down in 
front of me, looking up in my face, and 
wagging his tail to attract my attention. 
" What does that dog want ? " I asked of a 
bystander. "Signore," he answered, "he 
wants you to give him a soldo to go and 
buy you a cigar with." I gave the dog the 
coin, and he presently returned, bringing a 
cigar, which he held crossways in his mouth 
until I took it from him. Sent again and 
again, he brought me three or four more 
cigars from the tobacco-shop. At length the 
clog's demeanour changed, and he gave vent 
to his impatience by two or three low whines. 
" What does he want now ? " I asked. "He 
wants you to give him two soldi to go to the 
baker's and buy bread for himself." I gave 


him a two-soldo piece, and in a few minutes 
the dog returned with a small loaf of bread, 
which he laid at my feet, at the same time 
gazing wistfully in my face. " He won't 
take it until you give him leave," said 
another bystander. I gave the requisite 
permission, and the dear animal seized the 
loaf and disappeared with it in his mouth, 
and did not again make his appearance 
before I left the city. "He always does 
like this," said the standers-by, " whenever 
he sees a stranger in Ferentino." 





, 1888.] 

THE following instance ot dog instinct (or 
reasoning ?) will, I think, interest some of 
your readers. About a fortnight ago, while 
crossing the Albula Pass, our driver stopped 
for a few moments at the little restaurant on 
the highest point of it. A rough kind of 
herdsman's dog, of no particular breed, I 
suppose, came out and sat down by the 
carriage and looked up at us. We happened 
to have a few Marie biscuits in the carriage, 
so I threw half of one out to him. I suppose 
he had no experience in Huntley and 
Palmer's make, for he looked at and smelled 
it carefully, and then declined to eat it, but 
again looked up at me. I then took the 
remaining half, bit off and ate a little bit of 
it, and then threw over the rest to him. 
This time he ate it at once, then turned and 
ate the first piece, which he had before 
refused, and at once came and asked for 


more, which I had great pleasure in giving 
him. I may add that I have several times 
tried a similar experiment with more 
pampered dogs at home, but have never 
succeeded with it. Whether this arises from 
the latter knowing, in most cases, from 
experience what they like and what they do 
not like, or, as I am rather inclined to think, 
from the superior intelligence of this Alpine 
dog, who really reasoned that what I could 
eat he could, I leave your readers to decide 
for themselves. 

G. W. C. 


{July 21, 1888.] 

I DO not think that it was superior intelli- 
gence in the Alpine dog over other intelligent 
dogs which induced him to wait to eat the 
biscuit till he had seen the giver eat some of 
it. We have a very sagacious little High- 
land terrier, and he in the same manner often 
refuses a new kind of biscuit or cake until 
he has seen me bite off a small piece and 


eat it, and then he will do the same. I have 
also found our boarhound distrusting food 
occasionally, and declining to take it from 
his bowl until I have given him some with 
my hand. Then he seems to feel that it is 
all right, and comes down from his bench 
and eats it. This perhaps is not exactly the 
same, but it is still a phase of a dog's distrust 
of unaccustomed food, and his reasoning 
power respecting it. This wonderful reason- 
ing power any one accustomed to dogs soon 

J. B. G. 




{Aug. 4, 1883.] 

I THINK the question has been mooted in 
your columns as to whether dogs sometimes 
understand our language. A circumstance 
that has just occurred leads me to think that 
it does happen, where they are highly 
organised and living much with their owners. 
While our family party were sitting over 
dessert, a cork jumped from an apollinaris- 
water bottle on the sideboard. I took no 
notice at first, but after the conversation was 
ended, I got up and looked about for a few 
minutes, soon giving up the search. My 
brother asked what I was looking for, and I 
answered. I had no sooner sat down than 
our little dog crept from behind a piece of 
furniture, where she was reposing on the end 
of a rug, and went straight up to the cork, 
looking up at me and pointing to it with her 
nose. It was near me, but the shadow 
thrown by the table, prevented my seeing it. 


She is a very nervous little fox-terrier, a 
most " comfort-loving animal," and spends 
her life with one or the other of us on my 
sofa, when her master is out, but hearing his 
voice at a great distance, and always attend- 
ing to it. 



{Aug. ii, 1883.] 

THE following anecdote may interest some 
of your readers : Some years ago, when 
starting for a foreign tour, I entrusted my 
little Scotch terrier, Pixie, to the care of my 
brother, who lived about three miles distant 
from my house. I was away for six weeks, 
during the whole of which time Pixie re- 
mained contentedly at his new abode. 
The day, however, before I returned, my 
brother mentioned in the dog's hearing 
that I was expected back the next day. 
Thereupon, the dog started off, and was 
found by me at my bedroom door the 
next morning, he having been seen waiting 


outside the house early in the morning when 
the servants got up, and been admitted by 
them. Pixie is still alive and flourishing, 
and readily lends himself to experiments, 
which, however, yield no very definite result. 
He certainly seems to understand as much of 
our meaning as it concerns his own comfort 
to understand, but how he does it I cannot 
quite determine. I should be sorry to affirm, 
clever as he is, that he understands French 
and German, yet it is certainly a fact that he 
will fall back just as readily if I say 
"Zuriick!' as if I say "To heel!" and 
advance to the sound " En avant ! " as well 
as to " Hold up ! " As in both cases I am 
careful to avoid any elucidatory gesture or 
special tone of voice, I am inclined to think 
that there must be here a species of direct 
thought transference. At the same time, I 
am bound to add that without the spoken 
word I am unable to convey the slightest 
meaning to him. This, however, may be 
due to what I believe to be a fact, that it is 
almost impossible without word or gesture to 
formulate the will with any distinctness. If 


this theory be correct, the verbal sounds used 
would convey the speaker's meaning, not in 
virtue of the precise sounds themselves, but 
of the intention put into them by the 
speaker. I should be glad to know if the 
experience of others tends to confirm this 
theory, which I do not remember to have 
seen suggested before. 


\_Aug. 1 8, 1883.] 

I BEG to contribute another anecdote on the 
subject ot how our meaning is conveyed to 
animals. When I was in Norway with my 
husband, a dog belonging to the people of 
the house went with us in all our walks. 
One day a strange dog joined us, and 
seemed to wish to get up a fight with our 
dog, Fechter, who for protection kept 
almost under our feet ; my husband said 
several times, " Go on, Fechter," in English, 
which he immediately did, but soon came 
back again. At last we succeeded in driving 
the strange dog away, but he soon returned. 
Then my husband said without any alteration 


of tone or gesture that I was aware of, 
" Drive that dog away, Fechter." He 
immediately rushed at him, and we saw no 
more of our troubler. I have long thought 
that dogs do understand, not " the precise 
sounds themselves, but the intention put into 
them by the speaker." 



{Aug. 1 8, 1883.] 

PERHAPS I should have said the "Intelligence 
of Animals," but my meaning, in relation 
to the interesting correspondence in your 
columns, is no doubt clear. The whole 
question seems to me to lie in the proverbial 
nutshell, and to be solvable by the proverbial 
' common sense. Dogs' hearing is undoubtedly 
very keen and accurate, and even subtle ; and 
dogs have also the power of putting this and 
that together in a marvellously shrewd and 
almost rational fashion. They cannot under- 
stand sentences, but they get hold of words, 
i.e., sounds, and keep them pigeon-holed in 


their memory. I might as well argue moral 
principle from the fact that my dog Karl, 
like scores of other dogs, will hold a piece of 
biscuit on his nose so long as I say "trust," 
and will when I say "paid for" gaily toss 
his head and catch the biscuit in his honest 
mouth, as argue that because he finds eleven 
tennis-balls among the shrubs in five minutes, 
when I say, " We can't find them at all, 
Karl ; do go and find them, good dog, 
will you ? Find the balls, old fellow " 
therefore he understands my sentence. He 
simply grasps the words " find " and " balls," 
sees the game at a standstill, and reasons out 
our needs and his responsibilities, quickened 
by the expectation of pattings on the head, 
pettings, and pieces of biscuit. It is remark- 
able that if I try to delude him by uttering 
" base coin " in the shape of words just like 
the real words, as, for example, if I say 
"Jacob" instead of "paid for," he makes 
no mistake, but refuses the morsel, however 
delicate, till it is " paid for." 

Prominent nouns, participles, verbs, c., 
make up the lingua franca that so beautifully 


links together men and dogs, and now and 
then men and horses, their intelligence being 
quickened by their dumbness, as is that of 
deaf and dumb men and women, whose other 
faculties become so keenly intensified, and 
who put this and that together so much more 
quickly than do we who have all our faculties. 
There are of course "Admiral Crichtons" 
among dogs, as there are among men, but 
the difference between dog and dog will 
generally, I think, be traceable more to 
human training than to born capacity. The 
yearning look which Karl gives when (told 
to " speak ") he gives forth his voice in 
response, is sometimes piteously like " Oh, 
that I could really tell all I feel!" He is 
like, and all dogs of average intelligence are 
like, the Frenchman I met yesterday on the 
beach at Hastings, who wanted to know 
whether he could reach Ramsgate on foot 
before nightfall, and. how far it was, and who, 
as I only know a few French words, and am 
utterly unable to speak or understand sen- 
tences, was obliged to make me understand 
his wants by a few nouns such as everybody 


knows, and by causing me to put this and 
that together. There is of course the vital 
defect in the parallel that I could learn to 
understand French, and the dog could never 
learn to understand sentences ; but as so 
many parallels have vital defects of some 
kind, even down to that historic self-drawn 
parallel between Alexander and the robber, 
we may well say, whether we be men or 
dogs, " Let me reflect." Dogs do undoubt- 
edly reflect, and reason, and remember; and 
they never forget their " grammar," as school- 
boys do. Instinct, like chance, is only a name 
expressing fitly enough our own ignorance. 
Did not Luther and Wesley believe in the 
resurrection of animals ? 


\_Ag. 25, 1883.] 

A LITTLE illustration of canine intelligence 
shown by my collie, Dido, may be added 
to those which have lately appeared in the 
Spectator. The dog was lying on the floor 
in a room in which I was preparing to go 
out. An old servant was present, and when 


I had given her directions about an errand 
on which she was going, I said, " You will 
take Dido with you?" She assented, and 
the dog directly got up to follow her down- 
stairs. I then remembered that I should 
want a cab, so I asked the servant to send 
one, and not to leave the house till I rang 
the bell. On her leaving the room, Dido 
resumed her quiet attitude on the floor, with 
her nose to the carpet. In rather less than 
ten minutes I rang the bell, and the dog at 
once sprang up and ran downstairs to join 
her companion. I had not spoken a word 
after asking the servant to wait for the bell. 
Was this word-reading, or voice-reading, or 
thought-read ing. 



[Sept. i, 1883.] 

I CAN match Mrs. De Morgan's pretty story 
of her Dido. A wise old dog with whom I 
have the privilege to associate was, two or 
three days ago, lying asleep in her basket by 


the fire. I entered the room with my hat 
on, and invited her to join me in a walk ; 
but, after looking up at me for a moment, 
as canine politeness required, she dropped 
back among her cushions, obviously replying, 
" Thank you very much, but I prefer repose." 
Thereupon I observed, in a clear voice, " I 
am not going on the road [a promenade dis- 
liked by the dogs, because the walls on either 
side restrict the spirit of scientific research] ; 
I am going up the mountain." Instantly 
my little friend jumped up, shook her ears, 
and, with a cheerful bark, announced herself 
as ready to join the party. 

Beyond doubt or question, Colleen had 
either understood the word "road," or the 
word " mountain," or both, and determined 
her proceedings accordingly. Nothing in my 
action showed, or could show, the meaning 
of my words. 

If any of your readers who have resided 
for some weeks or months in a country where 
a language is spoken entirely foreign to their 
own say, Arabic, or Basque, or Welsh 
will recall of how many words they insensibly 


learn the meaning without asking it, and 
merely by hearing them always used in 
certain relations, they will have, I think, a 
fair measure of the extent and nature of a 
dog's knowledge of the language of his 
masters. My dog has lived fewer years in 
the world than I have passed in Wales, but 
he knows just about as much English as I 
know Welsh, and has acquired it just in the 

same way. 

F. P. C. 


[Dec. 29, 1883.] 

MR. DARWIN'S " Notes on Instinct," recently 
published by my friend, Mr. Romanes, have 
again called attention to the interesting sub- 
ject of instinct in animals. 

Miss Martineau once remarked that, con 
sidering how long we have lived in close 
association with animals, it is astonishing 
how little we know about them, and espe- 
cially about their mental condition. This 
applies with especial force to our domestic 
animals, and, above all, of course, to dogs. 


I believe that it arises very much from the 
fact that hitherto we have tried to teach 
animals, rather than to learn from them 
to convey our ideas to them, rather than to 
devise any language, or code of signals, by 
means of which they might communicate 
theirs to us. No doubt the former process 
is interesting and instructive, but it does not 
carry us very far. 

Under these circumstances it has occurred 
to me whether some such system as that 
followed with deaf mutes, and especially by 
Dr. Howe with Laura Bridgman, might not 
prove very instructive if adapted to the case 
of dogs. Accordingly I prepared some pieces 
of stout cardboard, and printed on each in 
legible letters a word, such as " food," 
"bone," "out," &c. I then began training 
a black poodle, Van by name, kindly given 
me by my friend, Mr. Nickalls. 

I commenced by giving the dog food in a 
saucer, over which I laid the card on which 
was the word " food," placing also by the 
side an empty saucer, covered by a plain 
card. Van soon learnt to distinguish between 


the two, and the next stage was to teach 
him to bring me the card ; this he now does, 
and hands it to me quite prettily, and I then 
give him a bone, or a little food, or take him 
out, according to the card brought. He 
still brings sometimes a plain card, in which 
case I point out his error, and he then takes 
it back and changes it. This, however, does 
not often happen. Yesterday morning, for 
instance, he brought me the card with 
" food " on it nine times in succession, 
selecting it from among other plain cards, 
though I changed the relative position every 
time. No one who sees him can doubt that 
he understands the act of bringing the card 
with the word " food " on it, as a request for 
something to eat, and that he distinguishes 
between it and a plain card. I also believe 
that he distinguishes, for instance, between 
the card with the word " food " on it and the 
card with " out " on it. 

This, then, seems to open up a method 
which may be carried much further, for it is 
obvious that the cards may be multiplied, 
and the dog thus enabled to communicate 


freely with us. I have as yet, I know, made 
only a very small beginning, and hope to 
carry the experiment much further, but my 
object in troubling you with this letter is 
*wofold. In the first place, I trust that some 
of your readers may be able and willing to 
suggest extensions or improvements of the 
idea. Secondly, my spare time is small, and 
liable to many interruptions ; and animals 
also, we know, differ greatly from one another. 
Now, many of your readers have favourite 
dogs, and I would express a hope that some 
of them may be disposed to study them in 
the manner indicated. The observations, 
even though negative, would be interesting ; 
but I confess I hope that some positive re- 
sults might follow, which would enable us to 
obtain a more correct insight into the minds 
of animals than we have yet acquired. 



[April 12, 1884.] 

You did me the honour, some weeks ago, to 
insert a letter of mine, containing suggestions 


as to a method of studying the psychology of 
animals and a short account of a beginning I 
had myself made in that direction. 

This letter has elicited various replies and 
suggestions which you will perhaps allow me 
to answer, and I may also take the opportu- 
nity of stating the progress which my dog 
Van has made, although, owing greatly, no 
doubt, to my frequent absences from home 
and the little time I can devote to him, this 
has not been so rapid as I doubt not would 
otherwise have been the case. Perhaps I 
may just repeat that the essence of my idea 
was to have various words, such as "food," 
"bone," "water," "out," &c., printed on 
pieces of card-board, and, after some pre- 
liminary training, to give the dog anything 
for which he asked by bringing a card. I 
use pieces of cardboard about ten inches long 
and three inches high, placing a number of 
them on the floor side by side, so that the 
dog has several cards to select from, each 
bearing a different word. 

One correspondent has suggested that it 
would be better to use variously coloured 


cards. This might, no doubt, render the 
first steps rather more easy, but, on the other 
hand, any temporary advantage gained would 
be at the expense of subsequent difficulty, 
since the pupil would very likely begin by 
associating the object with the colour, rather 
than with the letters. He would, therefore, 
as is too often the case with our own children, 
have the unnecessary labour of unlearning 
some of his first lessons. At the same time, 
the experiment would have an interest as a 
test of the colour-sense in dogs. 

Another suggestion has been that, instead 
of words, pictorial representations should be 
placed on the cards. This, however, could 
only be done with material objects, such as 
"food," "bone," "water," &c., and would not 
be applicable to such words as " out," " pet 
me," &c. ; nor even as regards the former 
class do I see that it would present any 
substantial advantage. 

Again, it has been suggested that Van is 
led by scent rather than by sight. He has, 
no doubt, an excellent nose, but in this case 
he is certainly guided by the eye. The cards 


are all handled by us, and must emit very 
nearly the same odour. I do not, however, 
rely on this, but have in use a number of 
cards bearing the same word. When, for 
instance, he has brought a card with "food" 
on it, we do not put down the same identical 
card, but another with the same word ; when 
he has brought that, a third is put down, and 
so on. For a single meal, therefore, eight or 
ten cards will have been used, and it seems 
clear, therefore, that in selecting them Van 
must be guided by the letters. 

When I last wrote I had satisfied myself 
that he had learnt to regard the bringing 
of a card as a request, and that he could 
distinguish a card with the word " food " on 
it from a plain one, while I believed that he 
could distinguish between a card with " food " 
on it and one with "out" on it. 

I have now no doubt that he can distin- 
guish between different words. For instance, 
when he is hungry he will bring a " food " 
card time after time, until he has had enough, 
and then he lies down quietly for a nap. 
Again, when I am going for a walk, and 


invite him to come, he gladly responds by 
picking up the "out" card, and running 
triumphantly with it before me to the front 
door. In the same way he knows the " bone " 
card quite well. As regards water (which I 
spell phonetically, so as not to confuse him 
unnecessarily), I keep a card always on the 
floor in my dressing-room, and whenever he 
is thirsty he goes off there, without any 
suggestion from me, and brings the card 
with perfect gravity. At the same time he 
is fond of a game, and if he is playful or 
excited will occasionally nan about with any 
card. If through inadvertence he brings a 
card for something he does not want, when 
the corresponding object is shown him, he 
seizes the card, takes it back again, and 
fetches the right one. No one who has seen 
him look along a row of cards, and select the 
right one, can, I think, doubt that in bringing 
a card he feels that he is making a request, 
and that he can not only perfectly distinguish 
between one word and another, but also asso- 
ciates the word and the object. 

I do not for a moment say that Van thus 


shows more intelligence than has been re- 
corded in the case of other dogs ; that is not 
my point, but it does seem to me that this 
method of instruction opens out a means by 
which dogs and other animals may be enabled 
to communicate with us more satisfactorily 
than hitherto. I am still continuing my 
observations, and am now considering the 
best mode of testing him in very simple 
arithmetic, but I wish I could induce others 
to co-operate, for I feel satisfied that the 
system would well repay more time and 
attention than I am myself able to give. 



\_March 4, 1893.] 

A CAT carried a hundred miles in a basket, a 
dog taken, perhaps, five hundred miles by 
rail, in a few days may have found their way 
back to the starting-point. So we have 
often been told, and, no doubt, the thing has 
happened. We have been astonished at 
the wonderful intelligence displayed. Magic, 
I should call it. Last week I heard of a 
captain who sailed from Aberdeen to Ar- 
broath. He left behind him a dog which, 
according to the story, had never been in 
Arbroath, but when he arrived there the dog 
was waiting on the quay. I was expected to 
believe that the dog had known his master's 
destination, and been able to inquire the way 
overland to Arbroath. Truly marvellous ! 
But, really, it is time to inquire more care- 
fully as to what these stories do mean ; we 
must cease to ascribe our intelligence to 
animals, and learn that it is we that often 
possess their instinct. A cat on a farm will 


wander many miles in search of prey, and 
will therefore be well acquainted with the 
country for many miles round. It is taken 
fifty miles away. Again it wanders, and 
comes across a bit of country it knew before. 
What more natural than that it should go to 
its old home? Carrier-pigeons are taught 
" homing " by taking them gradually longer 
flights from home, so that they may learn the 
look of the country. We cannot always dis- 
cover that a dog actually was acquainted 
with the route by which it wanders home ; 
but it is quite absurd to imagine, as most 
people at once do, that it was a perfect 
stranger to the lay of the land. To find our 
way a second time over ground we have 
once trod is scarcely intelligence ; we can 
only call it instinct, though the word does 
not in the least explain the process. Two 
years ago I first visited Douglas, in the Isle 
of Man. I reached the station at n p.m. ; 
I was guided to a house a mile through the 
town. I scarcely paid any attention to the 
route, yet next morning I found my way by 
thf? same route to the station, walking with 


my head bent, deeply thinking all the time 
about other things than the way. I have 
the instinct of locality. Most people going 
into a dark room that they know are by mus- 
cular sense guided exactly to the very spot 
they wish ; so people who have the instinct 
of locality may wander over a moor exactly 
to the place they wish to reach without 
thinking of where they go. There may be 
no mental exercise connected with this. I 
have known a lady of great intelligence who 
would lose her way within half-a-mile of the 
house she had lived in forty years. This 
feeling about place belongs to that part of us 
that we have in common with the lower 
creatures. We need not postulate that the 
animals ever show signs of possessing our 
intelligence ; they possess, in common with 
us, what is not intelligence, but instinct. 


{Sept. 24, 1892.] 

WILL you allow me to record in the Spectator 
" another dog story " ? It is one that testifies, 
for the thousandth time, to canine sagacity, 


and, as we are still in the silly season, which 
has this year in particular been so very 
prolific in human follies, it may be of special 
interest to learn some clever doings on the 
part of beasts. Quite recently a West- 
phalian squire travelled by rail from Liixen 
to Wesel, on the Rhine, for the purpose of 
enjoying some hunting, and took with him 
his favourite hound. The hunting party was 
to have started on a Sunday morning at nine 
o'clock, but, to the squire's great disappoint- 
ment, his sporting dog could nowhere be dis- 
covered. Disconsolate, he arrived on the 
following Monday afternoon at his house, 
and, to his great delight, he was greeted 
there with exuberant joy by his dog. The 
latter, who had never made the journey from 
Luxen to Wesel, had simply run home, thus 
clearing a distance of eighty English miles 
through an unknown country. Why the 
sporting dog should have declined to join 
the hunt is, perhaps, a greater mystery than 
the fact of his returning home without any 
other guidance than his sagacious instinct. 
Possibly he was a Sabbatarian, and objected 


to imitate his master's wicked example. So, 
Sunday papers, please copy ! 


[Sept. 8, 1894.] 

MAY I be allowed to offer to your readers 
yet another instance of the faithfulness and 
sagacity of our friend the dog ? The anec- 
dote comes from a distinguished naval 
officer, and is best given in his own words : 
" This is what happened to a spaniel of mine. 
It was given to our children as a puppy 
about three or four months old, and we have 
had it about five or six months, making it 
about ten months old. It was born about 
three miles from here, at Hertford, and has 
never been anywhere but from one home to 
the other. When the time came for break- 
ing him in for shooting purposes, I sent him 
to a keeper at Leighton- Buzzard, and, to 
insure a safe arrival, sent the dog with my 
man-servant to the train here, and thence to 
King's Cross. He walked with the dog to 
Euston Station, turned him over to the guard 
of the 12.15 tram 


arrived at Leighton-Buzzard at 1.30, and 
was there met by the keeper and taken to 
his home about three miles off. That was 
on the Friday. On the following Tuesday, 
the dog having been with him three full 
days, he took him out in the morning with 
his gun, and at eight o'clock on Wednesday 
morning (that being the following day) the 
dog appeared here, rather dirty, and looking 
as if he had travelled some distance, which 
he undoubtedly had. There is no doubt 
that this puppy of ten months old was sent 
away, certainly forty or fifty miles as the 
crow flies, and that he returned here in a 
day. How he did it no one can say, but it 
is nevertheless a fact. It would be interest- 
ing to know his route and to trace his 
adventures." This anecdote is the more 
remarkable in consequence of the extreme 
youth of the dog, and particularly as he 
belongs to a breed of sporting dogs which 
are not generally considered to rank among 
the most intelligent of the species. 



{Sept. 15, 1894.] 

THE " True Story of a Dog," in the Spec- 
tator of September 8th, may be matched, 
possibly explained, by a similar occurrence. 
I had bought a Spanish poodle pup of an 
Irishman who assured me, " Indade, sir, an' 
the dog knows all my childer do, only he 
can't talk." He shut doors, opened those 
with thumb-latches, and rushed upstairs and 
waked his mistress at words of command. 
One day we were starting to drive to our 
former home in the city, six miles distant, 
but the dog was refused his usual place in 
the carriage, and shut up in the house. 
When we arrived, to our astonishment we 
found him waiting for us on the doorstep ! 
We could not conceive how he got there, but 
upon inquiry found that he had got out, gone 
to the station, in some way entered the train, 
hid under a seat, and on arrival in the city 
threaded his way a mile through the streets, 
and was found quietly awaiting our arrival. 

R. P. S. 

9 o 


[May 3, 1884.] 

How do we know that in inviting dogs to 
the use of words Sir John Lubbock is 
developing their intelligence? Are we sure 
that he is not asking them to descend to 
a lower level than their own, in teaching 
them to communicate with us through our 
proper forms of speech, unnecessary to 
them? I can vouch for the truth of the 
following story. A young keeper, living 
about twelve miles east of Winchester, on 
leaving his situation gave away a fox-terrier, 
which had been his constant companion for 
some months ; he then took another place 
in the north of Hampshire, near the borders 
of Berkshire, in a part of the country to 
which he had never been. The new owner 
of the dog took her with him to a village 
in Sussex ; before she had been there long 
she disappeared, and after a short time found 
her old master in the woods at his new home. 
As I have said before, he had never been 
there before, neither had she. Rather un- 
gratefully, he again gave the dog away, this 
time to a man living some way north of 


Berkshire ; she came back to him in a few 
days, and, I am happy to say. is now to be 
allowed to stay with the master of her choice. 
Can such a nature need to be taught our 
clumsy language. 


\Feb. 1 6, 1895.] 

As I see that you have published some 
interesting anecdotes about dogs, I send you 
the two following, which perhaps you may 
think worth inserting. 

In 1873 we came to live in England, after 
a residence upon the Continent, bringing 
with us a Swiss terrier of doubtful breed 
but of marked sagacity, called Tan. One 
day, shortly after reaching the new home 
from Switzerland, the dog was lost under 
the following circumstances: We had driven 
to a station eight miles off East Harling 
to meet a friend. As the friend got out of 
the railway carriage the dog got in without 
being noticed and the train proceeded on 
its way. At the next station Eccles Road 
the dog's barking attracted the attention 


of the station-master, who opened the carriage 
door, and the dog jumped out. The station- 
master and the dog were perfect strangers. 
He and a porter tried to lock up the dog, 
but he flew viciously at any one who 
attempted to touch him, although he was 
not above accepting food. For the next 
three days his behaviour was decidedly 
methodical ; starting from the station in the 
morning, he came back dejected and tired 
at night. At last, on the evening of the 
third day, he reached home, some nine 
miles away, along roads which he had not 
before travelled, a sorry object and decidedly 
the worse for wear ; after some food he slept 
for twenty- four hours straight off. 

Anecdote number two. One day a hand- 
some black, smooth-haired retriever puppy 
was given to us, whom we named Neptune. 
The terrier Tan greatly resented having 
this new companion thrust upon him, and 
became very jealous of him. Being small, 
he was unable to tackle so large a dog, but 
sagacity accomplished what strength could not. 
Tan disappeared for two days. One evening, 


hearing a tremendous commotion in the yard, 
we rushed out to find a huge dog of the St. 
Bernard species inflicting a severe castigation 
upon poor Nep, Tan meanwhile looking on, 
complacently wagging his tail. Both Tan 
and his companion then disappeared for two 
more days, after which Tan reappeared 
alone, apparently in an equable frame of 
mind, and satisfied that he had had his 
revenge. We never discovered where the 
large dog came from. I can attest the truth 
of the two stories. 




o, 1887.] 

YOUR dog-loving readers may be interested 
to hear that there is (or was till lately) m 
South Africa a rival to the well-known 
Travelling Jack, of Brighton line fame, after 
whom, indeed, he has been nicknamed by 
his acquaintance. 

I was introduced to him eighteen months 
ago, on board the Norhani Castle, on a 
voyage from Cape Town to England a 
voyage which this distinguished Colonial 
traveller was making much against his will. 
He was a black-and-tan terrier with a white 
'chest, whose intellect had therefore probably 
been improved by a dash of mongrelism, and 
I was told that he belonged to a gentleman 
connected with the railway department living 
at Port Elizabeth. It appears that it was 
Mr. Jack's habit frequently to embark all 
by himself on board the mail steamer leaving 
that place on Saturday afternoon, and make 
the trip round the coast to Cape Town, 
arriving there on Monday morning. Where 


he " put up " I do not know, but he used 
to stay there until Wednesday evening, when 
he would calmly walk into the station, take 
his place in the train, and return to Port 
Elizabeth in that way, thus completing his 
" circular tour " by a railway journey of 
about eight hundred miles. 

He was well known by the officers and 
sailors of the Norham, and her commander, 
Captain Alexander Winchester (who can 
vouch for these facts), told me that, as the 
dog seemed fond of the sea, he had deter- 
mined to give him a long voyage for a 
change, and had kept him shut up on board 
during the ship's stay at Cape Town. 

Jack was evidently very uneasy at being 
taken on beyond his usual port, and he was 
on the point of slipping into a boat for the 
shore at Madeira, probably with a view of 
returning to the Cape by the next steamer, 
when I called the captain's attention to him, 
and he was promptly shut up again. I said 
good-bye to him at Plymouth, and hope he 
found his way home safely on the return 



\June 23, 1894.] 

I HAVE read with much interest the stories in 
the Spectator of the sagacity of animals. 
The following, I think, is worth recording : 
The chief-engineer of the Midland and 
South-Western Junction Railway, Mr. J. 
R. Shopland, C.E., has a spaniel that fre- 
quently accompanies him or his sons to their 
office. On Saturday last this dog went to 
Marlborough from Swindon by train with 
one of Mr. Shopland's clerks, and walked 
with him to Savernake Forest. Suddenly 
the dog was missing. The creature had 
gone back to the station at Marlborough 
and taken a seat in a second-class compart- 
ment. The dog defied the efforts of the 
railway officials to dislodge him. When the 
train reached Swindon he came out of the 
carriage and walked quietly to his master's 


[March 30, 1895.] 

I WAS witness the other day of what I had 
only heard of before a dog travelling by 


rail on his own account. I got into the train 
at Uxbridge Road, and, the compartment 
being vacant, took up the seat which I now 
prefer the corner seat at the entrance with 
the back to the engine. Presently a whole 
crowd of ladies got in, and with them a dog, 
which I supposed to belong to them. All the 
ladies except one got out at Addison Road, 
and then the dog slunk across the carriage 
to just under my seat. I asked my remaining 
fellow-passenger whether the dog was hers ; 
she said "No." No one got in before she her- 
self got out at South Kensington, where the 
dog remained perfectly quiet, but at Sloane 
Square a man was let in, and out rushed 
the dog, the door actually grazing his sides. 
Had he not taken up the precise place he 
did, he must have been shut in or crushed. 
"That dog is a stowaway," I observed to 
the porter who had opened the door. " I 
suppose he is," the man answered. The dog 
was making the best of his way to the stairs. 
Clearly the dog meant to get out at that 
particular station (he had had ample oppor- 
tunity of getting out both at Addison Road 


and South Kensington), and had, as soon 
as he could, taken up the best position for 
doing so. How did he recognise the Sloane 
Square Station, for he had had only those 
two opportunities of glancing out ? It seems 
to me it could only have been by counting 
the stations, in which case he must be able 
to reckon up to five. The dog was a very 
ordinary London cur, white and tan, of a 
greatly mixed Scotch terrier stock, the long 
muzzle showing a greyhound cross. He 
was thin, and apparently conscious of break- 
ing the law, hiding out of sight, and slinking 
along with his tail between his legs, and 
altogether not worth stealing. I suppose 
that he had been transferred to a new home 
which had proved uncongenial, and was 
slipping away, in fear and trembling, to his 
old quarters. 

J M. L. 



{Sept. i, 1883.] 

A REMARKABLE instance of the effect that can 
be produced upon a dog by the human voice 
was related to me yesterday. Some of your 
correspondents would consider it confirmatory 
of their notion that dogs have mind enough 
to understand words ; but I myself rather 
believe that the sound of the voice acts upon 
the feelings of dumb animals just as instru- 
mental music acts upon us. The story is as 
follows : A clergyman had for a long time a 
dog, and no other domestic animal. He and 
his servant made a great pet of the dog. 
At last, however, the clergyman took to 
keeping a few fowls, and the servant fed 
them. The dog showed himself very jealous 
and out of humour at this, and when Sunday 
came round, and he was left alone, he took 
the opportunity to kill and bury two hens. 


A claw half-uncovered betrayed what he had 
done. His master did not beat him, but took 
hold of him, and talked to him, most bitterly, 
most severely. " You've been guilty of the 
sin of murder, sir, and on the Sabbath day, 
too ; and you, a clergyman's dog, taking a 
mean advantage of my absence ! " &c. He 
talked on and on for a long time, in the same 
serious and reproachful strain. Early the 
next morning the master had to leave home 
for a day or so ; and he did so without 
speaking a word of kindness to the dog, 
because he said he wished him to feel 
himself in disgrace. On his return, the 
first thing he was told was, " The dog is 
dead. He never ate nor drank after you 
had spoken to him ; he just lay and pined 
away, and he died an hour ago." 




[Feb. i, 1879.] 

You have frequently published letters con- 
taining stories bearing on the question of the 
moral nature and the future of the lower 
animals. I venture to send you some facts 
about a dog, narrated to me by a lady, whose 
name and address I enclose for your own 
satisfaction, and at my request written down 
by her as follows 

" A young fox-terrier, about eight months 
old, took a great fancy to a small brush, of 
Indian workmanship, lying on the drawing- 
room table. It had been punished more 
than once for jumping on the table and 
taking it. On one occasion, the little dog 
was left alone in the room accidentally. On 
my return, it jumped to greet me as usual, 
and I said, ' Have you been a good little dog 
while you have been left alone ? ' Immedi- 
ately it put its tail between its legs and slunk 
off into ;m adjoining room, and brought back 
the little brush in its mouth from where it 
had hidden it. 


" I was much struck with what appeared 
to me a remarkable instance of a dog posses- 
sing a conscience, and a few months after- 
wards, finding it again alone in the room, 
I asked the same question, while patting it. 
At once I saw it had been up to some 
mischief, for with the same look of shame 
it walked slowly to one of the windows, 
where it lay down, with its nose pointing to 
a letter bitten and torn into shreds. On a 
third occasion, it showed me where it had 
strewn a number of little tickets about the 
floor, for doing which it had been reproved 
previously. I cannot account for these facts, 
except by supposing the dog must have a 

The conduct of this dog seems to me, sir, 
to exhibit something different from fear of 
punishment, viz., a sense of shame, a re- 
morse, a desire to confess his fault, and even 
to expiate it by punishment, in order to feel 
the guilt no longer. He rather sought 
punishment, than feared it. 




[April 24, 1875.] 

I SAW an anecdote in your paper the other 
week illustrative of the sagacity of a dog. 
Kindly allow me to place upon record, as a 
kind of a companion picture, an anecdote 
showing the affection of one of the canine 
species a fine young retriever. For some 
weeks I have been staying away from my 
house in the country, where is the fine young 
retriever in question. Well, last week the 
household missed him for hours, and began 
to think he was lost. Nothing of the kind, 
however. The servant, happening to go up 
to my bedroom, found him with his head 
resting on my pillow, moaning heavily, and 
it was only with great difficulty that she 
could drive him away. Surely it is incidents 
such as these that have made so many great 
men rail against humanity and uphold their 




\Sept. 15, 1894-] 

As you sometimes admit anecdotes of animals 
into the Spectator, perhaps you may consider 
the following fact worthy of record. In a 
hotel where I am staying, being distressed 
by the cry of anguish of a dog occasionally, 
I inquired the cause, and was told that when- 
ever he happens to be in the hall when 
luggage is brought down to go in the 
omnibus, he utters these bitter cries, and 
has to be removed. His master left him 
here many months ago, and the supposition 
is that the sight of the luggage and omnibus 
recalls his loss ; and is another instance of 
the faithful affection of these half-human 

I. K. 



30, 1892.] 

THE article, " Animals in Sickness," in the 
Spectator of July 23rd, has reminded me of 
the following anecdote, which was told to me 
some years ago by a butcher residing at 
Brodick, in the Isle of Arran. He told me 
that he had had two collie dogs at the same 
time, one old and the other young. The old 
dog became useless through age, and was 
drowned in the sea at Brodick. A few days 
afterwards, its body was washed ashore, and 
it was discovered by the young dog, who was 
seen immediately to go to the butcher's shop 
and take away a piece of meat and lay it 
at the dead dog's mo>>th. The young dog 
evidently thought that the meat would revive 
his old comrade, and thereby showed re- 
markable sympathy in aid of, to him, the 
apparent " weak." 




[April i%, 1891.] 

POSSIBLY it is from an excess of the " maudlin 
sentimentality" of which physiologists com- 
plain in those who protest against cruelty to 
animals, that I find it almost painful to read 
such pathetic stories of dogs as the one 
given by Miss Cobbe in the Spectator of 
April nth ; for they tell of such intelligence 
and devotion, that, remembering the in- 
human way in which our poor dogs are too 
often treated, we feel it would be almost 
better if they lacked these human qualities. 
The following is an anecdote of the same 
kind, that ever since I heard it, I have been 
intending to send it to the Spectator. The 
servant-man of one of my friends took a 
kitten to a pond with the intention of drown- 
ing it. His master's dog was with him, and 
when the kitten was thrown into the water, 
the dog sprang in and brought it back safely 
to land. A second time the man threw it in', 
and again the dog rescued it ; and when for 
the third time the man tried to drown it, the 


dog, as resolute to save the little helpless life 
as the man was to destroy it, swam with it 
to the other side of the pool, running all the 
way home with it, and safely depositing it 
before the kitchen fire ; and " ever after " 
they were inseparable, sharing even the 
same bed ! 

When not long ago I came across the 
noble sentiment that "hecatombs of brutes 
should be tortured, if man thereby could be 
saved one pang," I found myself dimly 
wondering what constituted a " brute." 
Certainly, in the incident I have just given, 
the " brute " was not the dog ! 

S. W. 



\_June 1 8, 1892.] 

IF you think this little anecdote of canine 
friendliness worthy of the Spectator, will you 
insert it for me ? Last week a sick dog took 
up its abode in the field behind our house, 
and after seeing the poor thing lying there 
for some time, I took it food and milk-and- 
water. The next day it was still there, and 
when I was going out to feed it, I saw that 
a small pug was running about it, so I took 
a whip out with me to drive it away. The 
pug planted itself between me and the sick 
dog, and barked at me savagely, but at last 
I drove it away, and again gave food and 
milk-and-water to my protege. The little 
pug watched me for a few moments, and as 
soon as he felt quite assured that my inten- 
tions towards the sick dog were friendly, it 
ran to me wagging its tail, leapt up to my 
shoulder, and licked my face and hands, nor 
would it touch the water till the invalid had 
had all it wanted. I suppose that it was 


satisfied that its companion was in good 
hands, for it trotted happily away, and did 
not appear upon the scene again. 




[Nov. 29, 1890.] 

IN your article on Mr. Nettleship's pictures 
of animals, you note the delicacy of a dog 
that has been properly trained in the matter 
of taking its food. My little dog is not only 
most dainty in that particular, but strictly 
observes the courtesy, which is natural, not 
taught, of not beginning his dinner (served 
on white napery that is never soiled) until 
his master begins his own. No amount of 
coaxing on the part of the ladies (they do 
not wait) will induce him to eat if I am late : 
he merely consents to have his muzzle taken 
off, inspects his dinner, and then seeks his 
master s room, where he waits to accompany 
him in orderly fashion downstairs. 




[Dec. 12, 1891.] 

I AM not versed in dog-lore, and it may be 
that my love for the animal makes me an 
ill judge of the importance of the following 
story ; but a friend vouches for its truth, and 
to my mind it has its importance, not from 
its display of jealousy, but from the dog's 
deliberate acceptance of the undoubtedly 
changed condition, and the clearly meta- 
physical character of his motive. 

The story is this. A young man had 
owned for some years a dog who was his 
constant companion. Recently the young 
man married, and moved with his bride and 
his dog into a house on the opposite side of the 
street from his father's house, his own former 
home. The dog was not happy, for the 
time and attention which had formerly been 
his was now given to the young wife. In 
many ways he showed his unhappiness and 
displeasure, in spite of the fact that the 
master tried to reconcile him and the bride 
to win him. One day when the master 


came home, his wife sat on his knee, while 
Jack was lying by the fire. He rose from 
his place, came over to the couple, and 
expressed his disapproval. "Why, Jack," 
said the master, " this is all right, she's a 
good girl," and as he spoke, he patted her 
arm. Jack looked up at him, turned away, 
and left the room. In a moment they heard 
a noise, and going into the hall, they found 
Jack dragging his bed downstairs. When 
he reached the front door, he whined to be 
let out, and when the door was opened, he 
dragged his bed down the steps, across the 
street to his old home, where he scratched 
for admittance. Since then he has never 
been back to his master, refusing all over- 




\Jan. 12, 1895.] 

I WAS greatly interested in the story of the 
generosity shown by a dog, as related in the 
Spectator of January 5th, because of a similar 
case within my own knowledge, and yet so 
different, as to prove that the dispositions 
of animals are as varied as those of human 
beings. A friend of mine had two fox- 
terriers, inseparable companions, and both 
equally devoted to their mistress. On one 
occasion, when the family had been away 
from home for some time, and were return- 
ing, one of these pets, not being well, was 
brought back with its mistress, while the 
other was left to follow with the horses, &c., 
and did not arrive for three days. On 
entering the house, the dog had a very 
sullen appearance, took no notice of any one, 
but searched everywhere till he found his 
companion ; then flew at his throat, and 
would have killed him but for timely succour ! 
Could any human being have indulged in a 
more rankling jealousy ? 

E. A. K. 



{Jan. 5, 1895.] 

THE following history of canine sympathy 
may interest your readers. I was once the 
happy owner of a large and beautiful bull- 
terrier, Rose, and at the same time of a still 
dearer, though less beautiful, little mongrel, 
Fan, both passionately attached to a member 
of my household, commonly called their best 
friend. A certain shawl belonging to this 
adored friend was especially sacred in Fan's 
eyes. She never allowed any one to touch 
it without remonstrance Rose least of all 
and when her best friend was in bed, it was 
Fan's custom to ensconce herself in her arms, 
and not to allow any dog, and only the most 
favoured of human beings, to approach with- 
out violent growlings, if not worse. Fan 
was a tiny grandmother who had long ruled 
the household ; Rose, an inexperienced new- 
comer. One day, in a fit of youthful folly, 
Rose jumped over a gate and spiked herself 
badly, and was consigned for ten davs to the 


care of the veterinary surgeon. On her 
return, she was cordially welcomed by Fan 
and myself ; but when she rushed upstairs to 
the room of her best friend (then confined to 
her bed), my mind forboded mischief. We 
followed, and I opened the door. With one 
bound Rose flew into her best friend's arms, 
taking Fan's very own place, and was lost 
in a rapture of licking and being caressed. 
Fan flew after her, but to my amazement, 
instead of the fury I expected, it was to join 
with heart and tongue in the licking and 
caressing. She licked Rose as if she had 
been a long-lost puppy, instead of an in- 
truder ; and then, of her own accord, turned 
away, leaving Rose in possession, and took 
up a distant place on the foot of the bed, 
appealing to me with an almost human 
expression of mingled feelings the heroic 
self-abnegation of new-born sympathy strug- 
gling with natural jealousy. The better 
feelings triumphed (not, of course, unsup- 
ported by human recognition and applause), 
till both dogs fell asleep in their strangely 
reversed positions. After this, there was a 


slight temporary failure in Fan's perhaps 
overstrained self-conquest ; but on the next 
day but one she actually, for the first (and 
last) time in her life, made Rose welcome to 
a place beside her on the sacred shawl ; 
where again they slept side by side like 
sisters. This, however, was the last gleam 
of the special sympathy called forth by 
Rose's troubles. From that day Fan de- 
cidedly and finally resumed her jealous 
occupation and guardianship of all sacred 
places and things, and maintained it energeti- 
cally to her life's end. 

C E. S. 



\Oct. 24, 1891.] 

DOGS, as well as horses, can recognise 
tunes. Many years ago a friend, during a 
short absence from our station on the 
Kurrumfooler, lent my sister a pet dog. 
Cissie was constantly in the room while 
playing and singing went on, without taking 
any notice ; but whenever the temporary 
mistress began singing one favourite song 
of the absent mistress's, the dog would jump 
on a chair by her side with evident pleasure. 

O. H. G. 

\Oct. 24, 1891.] 

I HAVE read with much interest your 
correspondent's letter on the capability of 
animals to distinguish tunes. I had a small 
dog who, when first I got him, would have 
howled incessantly during singing. This, 
however, he was not allowed to do, except 


to one tune, which he soon knew and always 
joined in, not attempting to "sing" other 
songs. We tried every sort of experiment 
to see if he would recognise his own tune, 
which he invariably did, and would whine if 
the air was hummed quite quietly. 


[Oct. 24, 1891.] 

ANENT " Orpheus at the Zoo," the follow- 
ing facts may interest you. Of two dogs of 
mine, one showed a great fondness for music. 
She (though usually my shadow) would 
always leave me to go to a room where a 
piano was being played, and the more she 
liked the music, the closer she crept to the 
player, even if a stranger to her. If, how- 
ever, one began to play scales or exercises, 
she would get up, walk to the door, sit 
down, and, after waiting a bit, go away out 
of sight, but not out of hearing, for she soon 
appeared again on the resumption of music 
to her taste. On the other hand, mere 
" strumming " very quickly obliged her to 
go right away out of hearing. I confess 


that I have many times plagued the poor 
dog by thus sending her backwards and 
forwards. Her looks were often very 
comical. The other dog evidently hated 
music would try to push a player from the 
piano, go out of hearing, and show other 
unmistakable signs of dislike. A band 
would draw one dog out to listen, while 
the other rushed away to hide. In one 
house the dog first mentioned had, for some 
reason or other, a particular objection to 
the room where the piano was, and never 
willingly stayed there. Music would bring 
her in, but only to sigh and moan, evidently 
in great pity for herself at being obliged to 
listen under such (to her) trying conditions. 
From these and other observations I am 
convinced that there is the musical dog as 
well as the unmusical, just as with human 
beings. D. 



{May 5, 1894.] 

IN the Spectator of April 2ist there is an 
article on Apes, in which the following 
occurs : " Monkeys, we believe, alone 
among animals can recognise the meaning 
of a picture." It may interest some of your 
readers to hear that certain other animals 
can also do this, two instances having come 
under my own observation. A cat belonging 
to a little girl I know was on the child's bed 
one morning, and made a spring at a picture 
of a thrush, about life-size, which was hang- 
ing near. The other case is that of a dog 
a female Irish terrier who is in the habit 
of running with her mistress's pony carriage. 
When she sees the pony being harnessed, 
she often shows her delight by jumping up 
at its head and barking. In a certain shop 
to which she sometimes goes with her mis- 
tress there is a picture of a horse hanging. 
The dog invariably behaves in exactly the 
same manner to this, jumping up and bark- 


ing at it, thus showing unmistakably that 
she recognises its meaning. 


May 19, 1894. 

THE following instance bears on the sub- 
ject discussed in the Spectator of May 5th. 
We had for a newcomer to our circle a little 
terrier dog. I was informed it had been 
seen in the library facing a large-sized 
portrait of myself, and barking furiously. 
I was somewhat sceptical until a day or two 
later I saw it repeat the performance. I 
have wondered whether it was because the 
dog thought it a good or bad representation 
of the original, and so was complimenting or 
otherwise the artist. 


\_May 19, 1894.] 

APROPOS of the recognition of pictures by 
dogs {Spectator, May 5th), I think you may 
be interested in the two following facts which 
came under my notice a few years ago. A 
sagacious but quite uneducated old terrier 


came with his master to call for me, and 
coiled himself on the hearthrug while we 
talked. Turning himself round in the 
intervals of slumber, his eye caught an oil- 
painting just over his head (a life-size half- 
length of a gentleman). He immediately 
sat up, showed his teeth, and growled not 
once, but continually as both angry and 
mortified that neither eyes nor nose had 
given him notice of the arrival of a 
stranger! The next instance was similar, 
except that the chief actor was a young, 
intelligent collie, who, on the sudden dis- 
covery of a man looking at him from the 
wall, barked long and furiously. In both 
instances, after their excitement had sub- 
sided, I led the dogs to look at another 
picture similar in size, and also of a gentle- 
man, but neither of them would take the 
smallest notice of it. I need only add that 
the picture which the dogs appreciated was 
painted by Sir Henry Raeburn the other 
was not. Might not a few sagacious canine 
members be a useful addition to the Royal 
Academy Hanging Committee ? 



[May 26, 1894.] 

MANY years ago I had a similar experience 
to Mr. Frank Wright. A likeness of myself, 
head and shoulders, drawn in chalk from a 
photograph, and enlarged to nearly life size, 
hung on the dining-room wall of a house I 
then occupied. One evening my wife silently 
called my attention to a young English 
terrier, who had not been very long with 
us, looking up at it very steadfastly. He 
regarded it for about a minute in silence, 
and at last broke out into a loud bark, 
which I supposed to mean that in his 
opinion the wall was not my proper place, 
and that only an evil genius could have 
set anything like me in such a position. 


\June 2, 1894.] 

You were so good as to insert my little 
account of the politeness of a parrot in the 
Spectator, will you now allow me also to bear 
witness to the recognition of a likeness by a 
dog ? Some time ago I was painting two 
portraits in the country, and one day by 


chance I placed the picture of my hostess 
on the ground. Immediately her old spaniel 
came and gazed intently at the face for 
several seconds. Then he smelt at the 
canvas, and, unsatisfied, walked round and 
investigated the back. Finally, having dis- 
covered the deception, he turned away in 
manifest disgust, and nothing that we could 
do or say, on that day or on any other, would 
induce that dog to look at that picture again. 
We then tried him by putting my portrait of 
his master also on the ground, but he simply 
gave it a kind of casual contemptuous side- 
glance and took no further notice of it. We 
attributed this not to any difference in the 
merits or demerits of the two portraits, but 
simply to the fact that the dog felt he had 
been deceived once, but was not to be so 
taken in again. 




\Sept. 7, 1889.] 

THIRTY years ago I was staying at Langley, 
near Chippenham, with a lady who was 
working a large screen, on which she de- 
picted in " raised " work (as it was then called) 
a life-sized cat on a cushion. The host, a 
sportsman now dead, was much struck with 
the similarity to life of the cat, so he fetched 
his dog (alas ! like too many of the species), 
a cat-hater. The animal made a dead set at 
the (wool) cat, and but for the master's 
vigorous clutching him by the collar, the 
cushion would have been torn into atoms. 
I related this tale lately in Oxford, and my 
hearer told me that a friend in the Beving- 
ton Road had just painted a bird on a fire- 
screen, and her cat flew at it. 

My own old dog, Scaramouch (a pet oi 

the Duke of Albany's in his undergraduate 

days), disliked being washed, and when I 

showed him a large Graphic picture of a 



child scrubbing a fox-terrier in a tub, he 
turned his head away ruefully, and would not 
look at his brother in adversity. 




{Feb. 1 6, 1889.] 

THE following story of friendship between 
two dogs may, I think, interest some of your 
readers. Some time ago I used often to stay 
with a friend in Wiltshire, whose park is 
separated from the house by a lake which is 
about a hundred and fifty yards broad at the 
narrowest part. Being extremely fond of 
animals, I soon became intimate with two 
delightful dogs belonging to my hostess, a 
large collie, called Jasper, and a rough Skye 
terrier, Sandie. The pair were devoted 
friends, if possible always went out together, 
and, sad to relate, even poached together. 
One afternoon I called them, as usual, to go 
for a walk, and making my way to the lake, 
I determined to row across and wander about 
in the deer-park. Without thinking of my 
two companions, I got into the boat and 
pushed off. Jasper at once jumped into the 


water and gaily followed the boat ; half way 
across he and I were both startled by de- 
spairing howls, and stopping to look back, 
we saw poor little Sandie running up and 
down the bank, and bitterly bewailing the 
cruelty of his two so-called friends in leaving 
him behind. Hardening my heart, I sat still 
in silence, and simply watched. Jasper was 
clearly distressed ; he swam round the boat, 
and looking up into my face, said unmis- 
takably with his wise brown eyes, "Why 
don't you go to the rescue ? " Seeing, how- 
ever, that I showed no signs of intelligence, 
he made up his mind to settle the difficulty 
himself, so turned and swam back to forlorn 
little Sandie ; there was a moment's pause, I 
suppose for explanations, and then, to my 
surprise and amusement, Jasper stood still, 
half out and half in the water, and Sandie 
scrambled on to his back, his front paws 
resting on Jasper's neck, who swam across 
the lake and landed him safely in the deer- 
park ! I need not describe the evident pride 
of the one, or the gratitude of the other. 





[Feb. 23, 1889.] 

YOUR correspondent " Roy's " very interest- 
ing account of " A Canine Friendship " 
tempts me to send you the following about 
two Dandy Dinmonts in this neighbourhood. 

Friends of mine in Dumfriesshire had in 
their house two Dandie Dinmont dogs who 
were inseparable friends and constant com- 
panions in all that was going on. One day 
one of these dogs disappeared unaccountably, 
and nothing was seen of it for a week. His 
owners were very vexed, thinking he must 
have got within the range of some keeper's 
gun or met with some other accident. 

But the absentee's home-keeping com- 
panion was greatly distressed ; he moped 
about, and would not touch any food for 
several days; till, unexpectedly on my friend's 
part, the truant suddenly reappeared and 
showed himself in the house. The dog who 


had remained at home, when he saw the 
arrival of his former friend, looked steadily 
at him for a few seconds, and then, without 
further parley, went at him and gave the 
truant a thoroughly sound thrashing. I always 
explain this to myself by supposing that the 
home-keeping dog decided that the truant 
had caused him for several days needless 
anxiety and abstinence from food, and that 
the truant must learn by painful experience 
that such behaviour could not be lightly 
condoned by his inseparable companion. 

J. G. 


\_7ulyv, 1875.] 

I HAVE lately heard a story that I hope you 
may think worthy of a place among your 
illustrations of the thoughtful intelligence of 
" Conscious Automata." Many years ago, a 
family having a house in Grosvenor Square, 
and a place in the country (I think in War- 
wickshire), owned a terrier, who, in the 
country, made great friends with a large 
Newfoundland. When they came to town 


they brought the terrier, and he resided in 
a mews where he was much annoyed by a 
cur who lived next door, and attacked him 
whenever he came out. One day the terrier 
disappeared, but after a little time returned, 
bringing with him his big friend, who gave 
the vulgar bully a satisfactory thrashing 
not attempting to kill him. This has been 
told me by an old servant, who was then a 
young man, living in service in London, close 
to the owners of the dogs. He answers for 
the facts of the story as he heard them at 

the time. 

F. C. 


{Sept. 22, 1888.] 

THE Spectator does not disdain anecdotes of 
dogs and their doings, and I think the fol- 
lowing history, to which I can bear personal 
testimony, may be found not uninteresting to 
your readers. At this delightful house in 
Perthshire, where I am on a visit, there is a 
well-bred pointer, named Fop, who, when not 
engaged in his professional pursuits on the 


moor, lives chiefly in a kennel placed in a 
loose-box adjoining the other stables attached 
to the house. Nearly a year ago there were 
a pair of pigeons who lived in and about 
the stable yard. One of the birds died, and 
its bereaved mate at once attached itself for 
society and protection to the dog, and has 
been its constant companion ever since. On 
the days when the sportsmen are not seeking 
grouse the dog is in his kennel, and the 
pigeon is always his close attendant. She 
roosts on a rack over the manger of the stable, 
and in the day-time is either strutting about 
preening her feathers, taking her meals from 
the dog's biscuit and water tin, or quite as 
often sitting in the kennel by his side, nestling 
close to him. Fop, who is an amiable and 
rather sentimental being, takes no apparent 
notice of his companion, except that we 
observe him, in jumping into or out of his 
kennel while the pigeon is there, to take 
obvious care not to crush or disturb her in 
any way. The only other symptom Fop 
has shown of being jealous for the pigeon's 
comfort and convenience is that when ol late 


two chickens from the stable-yard wandered 
into the apartment where the dog and pigeon 
reside, he very promptly bit their heads off, 
as if in mute intimation that one bird is 
company, and two (or rather three) are none. 

The story is rather one of a pigeon than 
a dog, for it is quite evident that she is the 
devoted friend, and that he acquiesces in 
the friendship. On the days when Fop is 
taken, to his infinite delight, on to the moor, 
the pigeon is much concerned. She follows 
him as far as she dare, taking a series of 
short flights over his head, until a little wood 
is reached, through which the keeper and 
dogs have to take their way. At this point 
her courage fails her, and she returns to the 
stable, to wait hopefully for her comrade's 

This singular alliance is a great joy and 
interest to the keepers, coachmen, and grooms 
of the establishment, and as the keeper gave 
me a strong hint that the story ought to be 
told in print, adding that he had seen much 
less noteworthy incidents of animal life pro- 
moted to such honour, I have ventured to 


send it to you. I may add that the pigeon 
is of the kind called "Jacobin," and is white, 
with a black wing. Is there any precedent 
for such close intimacies between animals so 
widely separated in kind and habit? 



\Sept. 29, 1888.] 

IN reply to Mr. Ainger's question as to there 
being " any precedent for such close inti- 
macies between animals so widely separated 
in kind and habit" as the dog and pigeon 
mentioned in his interesting letter, I can 
mention two cases which have come under 
my notice this last summer at my farm in 
Berkshire. In one case the friendship existed 
between a pullet and a pig. The pullet 
never left the farmyard to join in the rambles 
of the other fowls, but kept near the pig all 
day, occasionally roosting on its friend's back 
when taking its afternoon nap. 

The other case was more remarkable. A 
hen, with strong motherly instincts, but no 
family of her own, acted for several weeks as 


foster-mother to eight spaniel puppies. The 
real mother, a very gentle creature, soon 
acquiesced in the arrangement. The hen 
covered the puppies with her wings just as 
though they had been chickens, and remained 
with them day and night. When they began 
to walk she was still their constant attendant; 
when they learned to lap and eat a little she 
would " call " them and break up their food. 
As they grew older the poor foster-mother 
had her patience sorely tried. They barked 
and capered around her, leading her alto- 
gether a sad life. After the puppies deserted 
her she was often seen sitting close to their 
mother, the pair apparently quite understand- 
ing each other. My children were naturally 
delighted to watch these strange sights, and 
the hen, though not at other times very 
tame, maintained perfect equanimity while 
they played with the puppies around her. 


{Sept. 29, 1888.] 
MR. AINGER, in giving his interesting inci- 


dent of strange friendships between animals, 
asks if there are any precedents for such 
incongruous intimacy as he saw between a 
dog and a pigeon. To most close observers 
of animals, such curious cases, though always 
noteworthy, are well known ; naturalists like 
Buckland and many others have frequently 
recorded them. 

With the view of adding to the lore on 
this matter, permit me to cite the following. 
Two Scotch terriers are lying before the 
fire. Prince is an amiable sort of dog ; Jack 
is rather surly ; both good vermin-killers and 
fond of hunting. I bring in a common buck 
rabbit, and place it beside the dogs, with 
the intimation they were not to touch it. 
Trust, and then alliance, quickly grew be- 
tween it and Prince, whilst Jack shows 
unmistakable hatred. In a few days the 
two friends, with their paws absurdly clasp- 
ing each other's necks, sleep happily on the 
rug ; they play together, they chase each 
other up and down the stairs and all over 
the house at full speed, and when tired come 
back to the rug. Jack refusing all this 


sort of thing, makes the rabbit look at him 
with a sort of awe. Does Bunny make no 
mess in the house ? None whatever ; he 
goes into the garden as the dogs do, and 
like them, scratches at the door when he 
wants to return. All this he does without 
any instruction from us. After a while, 
being very fond of him, we put on the floor 
a pretty pink-eyed doe as a present. He 
stares, sniffs her all over, kills her on the 
spot, and goes for a romp with his dear 
Prince. Jack always sleeps under my bed 
from choice, and just before I put out the 
light as I lie, stands up against the bed for 
his last pat and "good-night." Bunny has 
observed all this, and quietly creeps into 
the room, which he refuses to leave ; then 
likewise always asks for his "good-night," 
and sleeps somewhere near his great 

Another instance, published in " Loch 
Creran " by my friend Mr. Anderson Smith. 
I punished my cat for killing a chicken. 
The next day he is seen to carry a live 
chicken in his mouth and lay it down to 


the hen he had previously robbed. He 
and the chicken afterwards were frequently 
observed leaving the orchard together, and 
travelling through the courtyard and back 
passages, find their way to the kitchen 
fireplace, where they would sleep in good 
fellowship. This chicken, I discovered, had 
been stolen nearly two miles away. It is 
important to remark that the cat, though 
a cruel bird-killer, never touched another 
chicken. Was the idea of compensation in 
the cat's mind? If not that, all the circum- 
stances are singularly coincident. And why 
did the chicken prefer the cat's companion- 
ship to that of its fellows? 



[Oct. 6, 1888.] 

MR. AINGER'S letter in the Spectator of 
September 22nd reminds me of an almost 
identical friendship that existed some years 
ago at Grove House, Knutsford. A long- 
haired mastiff was kept chained as a watch- 
dog, and when a white fantail pigeon's mate 


died, it attached itselt to the mastiff, and 
was continually with it in the kennel. When 
the dog had its breakfast of porridge and 
milk, the pigeon would eat out of the bowl 
at the same time ; and when the dog had 
finished, it would lie flat on its side while 
the pigeon perched on its head and pecked 
off the grains of oatmeal that stuck to the 
long hair round its mouth. The only danger 
to the pigeon seemed to be that when the dog 
rushed out of the kennel suddenly to bark, 
it seemed to forget the pigeon, and we used 
to fear that the heavy chain might hurt it ; 
but it never was hurt. This friendship 
lasted many years, till one of the two, I 
forget which, died. 



\July I, 1893.] 

THE following story may, perhaps, interest 
some of your readers : Willie is a small, 
rough-haired terrier, a truculent and aggres- 
sive character, the terror of tramps, in a 
skirmish with one of whom he has lost an 



eye. He rules the kitchen with a rod of 
iron, the inmate there admiring and fearing 
him. Next to tramps, Willie hates cats ; 
he has been flogged again and again for 
chasing the neighbour's "Tom"; nothing can 
stop him rushing at the alien cat, however. 
But for his own domestic " Tabby " he has 
tolerance and a certain amount of affection ; 
if another dog were to attack her, dire would 
be the warfare. A while ago, this cat had 
three kittens ; two were taken by the maid 
and placed in a bucket of water, and left to 
their fate. Before that fate had come Willie 
perceived them ; he snatched them from the 
bucket one by one, and carried them to his 
kennel. The maid attempted to get them 
away, but Willie flew at her with fury, and 
then returned to lick first one and then the 
other, to shove them up together, and lie 
down near them, and in every way to give 
the poor half-dead things a chance. This 
went on for some time ; but when at last 
there was no sign of breath, and he saw that 
they were hopelessly dead, he marched out of 
the kennel, shook himself, and indicated to 


the maid that she might now proceed to 
bury them, that they were past intelligent 
treatment. He treats the remaining and 
living kitten with the indifference of the 
scientific for the normal. 

L. H. 


[May 1 8, 1895.] 

BEING a frequent reader of anecdotes of the 
sagacity of animals in your paper, I think 
you may consider the following trait of 
character in a dog worthy of notice. Jack, 
a rough-haired fox-terrier of quiet disposition, 
but a good ratter, and an inveterate enemy 
to strange or neighbouring cats, of whom, 
to my sorrow, he has slain at least one, 
became without effort the attached friend 
of a minute kitten introduced into the house 
last November. This friendship has been 
continued without intermission, and is re- 
ciprocated by the now full-grown cat. She, 
unfortunately, got caught in a rabbit-trap not 
long ago, but escaped with no further injury 
than a lacerated paw, which for some time 


caused her much pain and annoyance. 
Every morning Jack was to be seen tenderly 
licking the paw of the interesting invalid, 
to which kind nursing no doubt her rapid 
recovery may be attributed ; and though she 
is now more than convalescent and able to 
enjoy her usual game of play, he still greets her 
each morning with a gentle inquiring lick on 
the injured paw, just to see if it is all right 
before proceeding to roll her over in their 
accustomed gambols. This seems to me 
a marked instance of individual affection 
overcoming race-antipathy. 



[Feb. 6, 1875.] 

I HAVE two dogs, two cats, and a kitten. 
Many years of experience have shown me, 
in the teeth of all proverbs, that cats and 
dogs, members of the same household, live 
together quite as amicably as human beings. 
Only, like human beings, they have their 
dislikes and preferences for each other. At 
the present time, my dog Snow is on terms 


of hearty friendship with my grey cat Kitty, 
but of polite indifference with my black 
cat Toppy. 

Toppy, for some years back, has been 
subject to fits, owing, it is considered, to the 
lodgment of some small shot near her spine, 
whilst out trespassing (or poaching). 

Yesterday Snow rushed into the kitchen 
with face so anxious and piteous that my 
servants both exclaimed that something must 
have happened ; gave signs, as he can do, 
that somebody was to go with him, and 
was followed into the drawing-room, where 
Toppy, left alone, had fallen under the 
grate in a fit, and was writhing amid the 
ashes and embers. She was rescued, and 
beyond a little singeing, does not seem much 
the worse. 

To reach the kitchen, Snow must have 
pushed open a red-baize door, which he 
has never been known to open before, and 
before which he will stay barking for ten 
minutes at a time to be let through. 

If any biped, supposing himself to be 
endowed with reason, humanity, and articu- 



late speech, tells me that Snow is a conscious 
automaton, can I give him any other answer 
than, " You're another " ? 

J. M. L. 


[Nov. 6, 1880.] 

I HAVE read from time to time in the pages 
of the Spectator instances of canine sagacity 
furnished by your correspondents, which 
have, no doubt, interested many others 
besides myself. The following incident 
occurred last Saturday, in my walk from 
the beach, which, perhaps, may amuse your 
readers, as it did me. 

My curiosity was excited by seeing a 
young retriever on his hind legs licking very 
ardently the face of a nice-looking donkey, 
who was tethered on the bank. After licking 
his face all over for a long time, he began 
to frisk around him, evidently anxious to 
have a trot together; but, finding that his 
friend was tied by a rope, he deliberately 
began to gnaw it, and in a very short time 
succeeded in setting him free! The owner 


of the donkey, who happened to be at work 
close by, then interfered, and put a stop to 
their little game, or otherwise Master Neddy 
would, no doubt, have been seduced to join 
in a scamper. From the warmth of the 
dog's salutes, I imagine that he and the 
donkey were old friends. 



{Nov. 20, 1880.] 

I WAS much interested in the account of the 
friendship that existed between the young 
retriever and the donkey whom he released 
by gnawing the rope. The little incident 
I send of another retriever may also interest 
your readers. A friend of mine had a pet 
canary, while her brother was the owner 
of a retriever that was also much petted. 
One day the canary escaped from the house, 
and was seen flying about the grounds for a 
few days, and when it perched was generally 
on high elm-trees. At last it vanished from 
view, and this dear little pet was mourned 
for as lost or dead. But after the interval 


of another day or so, the retriever came 
in with the canary in his mouth, carrying it 
most delicately, and went up to the owner 
of the bird, delivering it into her hands 
without even the feathers being injured. 
Surely nothing could illustrate more beauti- 
fully faithful love and gentleness in a dog 
than this. 



{April 13, 1878.] 

WOULD you allow me, as a cat fancier of 
nearly thirty years' standing, to corroborate, 
by a personal experience, Mr. Balfour's 
testimony in your last issue to the possibility 
of a genuine attachment between a cat and 
a dog? A few weeks ago, I called upon 
a bachelor friend who has two pets, a hand- 
some black female cat, of the name of Kate, 
and a bright little terrier, responding to the 
call of David. My friend assured me that 
they lived on the most affectionate terms. 
They were certainly not demonstrative, but 
they were importations from Scotland, and 
refrained from " spooning " before folk. The 


character of the attachment was soon tested. 
Another acquaintance entered the room, 
accompanied by a terrier of about the same 
size as David, although not of the same 
variety. This dog made at once for the 
cat, then resting in front of the fire. She 
backed against the wall, and prepared for 
a fight, in which, if I may judge from her 
size, she would have been victorious. But 
she was saved the trouble of using her claws. 
Before she could utter a feline equivalent for 
"Jack Robinson," before the door could be 
closed, David rushed at the intruder, and 
literally ran him out of the room and down 
two flights of stairs, with a rapidity worthy 
of a member of the Irish Constabulary. By 
the time he returned, his Dulcinea had 
arranged herself for another nap, but she 
opened one eye as her companion took his 
place by his side, and 

" Betwixt her darkness and his brightness, 
There passed a mutual glance of great politeness." 

I witnessed a similar scene some years 
ago in a country inn in the north of Scotland. 


On that occasion, one dog defended against 
another a favourite cat and a favourite hen. 
Speaking of cats, can any one say what 
has become of the late Pope's black cat, 
Morello ? Did he die before his master, or 
has some one adopted him ? Chateaubriand, 
as everybody knows, adopted Micetto, the 
grey favourite of Leo XII. 




[Feb. 2, 1895.] 

KNOWING your love of animals, and the 
interest so often shown in your columns in 
their ways, I venture to send you the follow- 
ing story I have lately heard from an eye- 
witness, and to ask whether you or any of 
your readers can throw any light upon the 
dog's probable object. The dog in question 
was a Scotch terrier. He was one day 
observed to appear from a corner of the 
garden carrying in his mouth, very gently 
and tenderly, a live frog. He proceeded 
to lay the frog down upon a flower-bed, 
and at once began to dig a hole in the earth, 
keeping one eye upon the frog to see that it 
did not escape. If it went more than a few 
feet from him, he fetched it back, and then 
continued his work. Having dug the hole a 
certain depth, he then laid the frog, still 


alive, at the bottom of it, and promptly 
scratched the loose earth back into the hole, 
and friend froggy was buried alive! The 
dog then went off to the corner of the 
garden, and returned with another frog, 
which he treated in the same way. This 
occurred on more than one occasion ; in 
fact, as often as he could find frogs he 
occupied himself in burying them alive. 
Now dogs generally have some reason for 
what they do. What can have been a 
dog's reason for burying frogs alive? It 
does not appear that he ever dug them 
up again to provide himself with a meal. 
If, sir, you or any of your readers can throw 
any light on this curious, and for the frogs 
most uncomfortable, behaviour of my friend's 
Scotch terrier, I should be very much 




\Feb. 9, 1895-] 

I THINK I can explain the puzzle of the 
Scotch terrier and his interment of the frogs, 
for the satisfaction of your correspondent. 
A friend of mine had once a retriever who 
was stung by a bee, and ever afterwards, 
when the dog found a bee near the ground, 
she stamped on it, and then scraped earth 
over it and buried it effectually presumably 
to put an end to the danger of further stings. 
In like manner, another dog having bitten 
a toad, showed every sign of having found 
the mouthful to the last degree unpleasant. 
Probably Mr. Acland-Troyte's dog had, in 
the same way, bitten a toad, and conceived 
henceforth that he rendered public service 
by putting every toad-like creature he saw 
carefully and gingerly " out of harm's way," 

A great number of the buryings and other 
odd tricks of dogs must, however, I am sure, 
be considered as Atavism, and traced to the 
instincts bequeathed by their remote pro- 


genitors when yet " wild in the woods the 
noble beastie ran." Such, I believe, is 
generally admitted to be the explanation of 
the universal habit of every dog before lying 
down to turn round two or three times and 
scratch its intending bed even when that 
bed is of the softest woollen or silk 
apparently to ascertain that no snakes or 
thorns lurk in its sleeping-place. 

A dog which I once possessed exhibited 
such reversion to ancestral habits in a note- 
worthy way. She was a beautiful white 
Pomeranian ; and when a litter of puppies 
was impending, on one occasion she scratched 
an enormous hole in our back-garden in 
South Kensington, where her leisure hours 
were passed a hole like the burrow of a 
fox. It was not in the least of the character 
of the ordinary circular punch-bowl so often 
scooped out by idle or impatient dogs, 
but a long, deep channel running at a sharp 
angle a considerable way underground. 
Obviously, it was Yama's conviction that 
it was her maternal duty to provide shelter 
for her expected offspring, precisely as a 


tox or rabbit must feel it, and as we may 
suppose her own ancestresses did on the 
shores of the Baltic some thousand genera- 
tions ago. When the puppies were born, 
Yama and the survivor were established by 
me in a most comfortable kennel in the 
same garden, with a day nursery and a 
night nursery (covered and open) for the 
comfort and safety of the puppy. But one 
fine morning, when the little creature had 
begun to crawl over the inclosure of its small 
domain, I happened to go into the garden 
while Yama was absent in the house, and 
discovered that my little friend was missing. 
The puppy had disappeared altogether ; and 
at the same time I noticed that the flower- 
bed in which Yama had made her excavation 
had been nicely smoothed over by the 
gardener, who was putting the place in 
order. A suspicion instantly seized me, and 
I exclaimed, "You have buried my puppy ! '' 
I ran to the spot where the hole had been 
made, and, having swept aside the gardener's 
spadeful of soil, found the deeper part of the 
hole, running slanting underground, still 


open. I knelt down and thrust in my arm to 
its fullest stretch, and then, at the very end 
of the hole, my fingers encountered a little 
soft, warm, fluffy ball. The puppy came out 
quite happy and uninjured, freshly awakened 
from sleep, having shown that his instinct 
recognised the suitability of holes in the 
ground for the accommodation of puppies; 
just as the hereditary instinct of his mother 
had led her to prepare one for him, even 
in a South Kensington garden ! 




[Feb. 1 6, 1895.] 

I KNEW a dog in Ireland a large retriever 
who had been taught always to bring his own 
tin dish in his mouth, to be filled at the late 
dinner. For some reason his master wished 
to make a change, and to feed him twice 
a day instead of once, to which he had 
always been accustomed. The dog resented 
this, and when told to bring his dish, refused, 
and it could nowhere be found ; on which 
his master spoke angrily to him, and ordered 
him to bring the dish at once. With droop- 
ing tail and sheepish expression he went 
down the length of the garden, and began 
scratching up the soil where he had buried 
the bowl deep down, to avoid having to 
bring it at an hour of which he did not 




\June 23, 1894.] 

You are fond of odd actions of dogs, so 
perhaps the following may be acceptable. 
I have two fox-terriers young dogs Grip 
and Vic. In the morning, at early tea in our 
bedroom, Vic gets angry with Grip's re- 
flection in the long glass of the wardrobe, 
barks at him furiously as he moves about, 
and scratches at the glass, quite regardless 
of her own face between her and his re- 
flection. And when he assaults her from 
behind, to make her play with his real self, 
she turns round and snaps at him viciously, 
and then returns to her attack on his reflection. 
He jumps upon the window-sill, and fancies 
he sees a squirrel in the garden, and dashes 
past her to the door ; she follows the motion 
of the reflection till she is past the edge of 
the glass, and loses it, when she dashes back 
to the glass again. This has occurred several 
days in the last week, and seems to me 
almost absurd. The dogs are just about a 
year old, and so beyond puppy folly, though 
very lively and playful still. 

A. M. B. 




[Oct. 22, 1882.] 

THE following anecdote may interest those 
of your readers who are accustomed to ob- 
serve the characteristic actions of dogs. I 
can vouch for its accuracy, as I was an 
amused eye-witness, and several members of 
my family were also present, and have often 
told the story. 

A friend of ours and his wife were spend- 
ing a musical evening with us, and an old, 
black, English terrier, who belonged to the 
house, had been in the drawing-room, which 
was upstairs. The dog had been kindly 
noticed by our friend, who was partially lame 
from paralysis. On leaving the drawing- 
room the dog followed him to the top of the 
staircase (we, with his wife, were waiting 

below in the hall), and with cocked tail and 



ears stood gravely watching his slow, limping 
descent. When the invalid was nearly at 
the foot of the stairs the dog began to follow, 
limping on three legs (he was quite sound), 
in humorous imitation of our poor, afflicted 
friend, and this assumed lameness was gravely 
kept up till he arrived on the mat. It was 
impossible to repress a smile, though our 
politeness was at stake, and the unconscious- 
ness of our friend added to the difficulty. 

A. R. 


\_July 28, 1888.] 

A RECENT anecdote from one of your corres- 
pondents about a dog and a hen brought to 
my mind an incident, related to me by an 
eye-witness, of a dog who had a constant 
feud with the fowls, which were prone to 
pilfer from the basin containing his dinner. 
On one occasion he was lying in front of his 
kennel, quietly watching a hen as she made 
stealthy and tentative approaches to his 
basin, which at length she reached and 


looked into, finding it perfectly empty. The 
dog wagged his tail. 

J. R. 


\jMarch 9, 1895.] 

DOES the following dog-story show a sense 
of humour ? A retriever was in the habit of 
leaving his bed in the kitchen when he heard 
his master descending the stairs in the morn- 
ing. On one occasion a new kitchen-maid 
turned him out of his bed at a much earlier 
hour than usual. He looked angrily at her, 
but walked out quietly. Time passed, and 
he was nowhere to be found. At last, in 
going to her bedroom, the kitchen-maid 
found him coiled up in her own bed. 

B. B. 




\_May 1 8, 1889.] 

You have lately published several dog 
stories. Allow me to send you another for 
publication should you think it worthy. It 
was told me to-day by a lady whom I cross- 
examined to get full details : " Some twenty 
years back we had a poodle white, with one 
black ear. After the manner of his race, 
he was never quite happy unless he carried 
something in his mouth. He was intelligent 
and teachable to the last degree. The great 
defect in his character was the impossibility 
of distinguishing meum from tuum. Any- 
thing he could get hold of he seemed to 
think, according to his dogged ethics, to be 
fairly his own. On one occasion he entered 
the room of one of the maidservants and 
stole her loaf of bread, carefully shutting the 
door after him with his feet the latter part 
being a feat I had taught him. The woman 
Irish was scared, and thought that the 


dog was the devil incarnate. The necessity 
of discipline on the one hand, and of occu- 
pation on the other, induced me one day to 
enter a saddler's shop, situated in a straight 
street about half a mile from our house, and 
buy a whip. Shortly after my return home 
he committed some act of petty larceny, so I 
gave him a beating with the whip he had 
carried home. Going for a walk next day 
the dog, as usual, accompanied me, and was 
entrusted with the whip to carry. Directly 
we got outside the door he started oft at his 
best pace straight down the street, paying 
no attention whatever to my repeated calls. 
He entered the saddler's shop and deposited 
the whip on the floor. When I arrived the 
saddler showed me the whip lying exactly 
where the dog had deposited it." 



{March 21, 1885.] 

A STORY which came to my knowledge a few 
months ago may be of interest in connection 


with the Spectators series of anecdotes illus- 
trating the intelligence of animals. 

One summer afternoon a group of children 
were playing at the end of a pier which 
projects into Lake Ontario, near Kingston, 
New York, U.S.A. The proverbial careless 
child of the party made the proverbial back- 
ward step off from the pier into the water. 
None of his companions could save him, and 
their cries had brought no one from the shore, 
when, just as he was sinking for the third 
time, a superb Newfoundland dog rushed 
down the pier into the water and pulled the 
boy out. Those of the children who did not 
accompany the boy home took the dog to a 
confectioner's on the shore, and fed him with 
as great a variety of cakes and other sweets 
as he would eat. So far the story is, of 
course, only typical of scores of well-known 
cases. The individuality of this case is left 
for the sequel. 

The next afternoon the same group of 
children were playing at the same place, 
when the canine hero of the day before came 
trotting down to them with the most friendly 


wags and nods. There being no occasion 
this time for supplying him with delicacies, 
the children only stroked and patted him. 
The dog, however, had not come out of pure 
sociability. A child in the water and cakes 
and candy stood to him in the close and 
obvious relation of cause and effect, and if 
this relation was not clear to the children he 
resolved to impress it upon them. Watching 
his chance, he crept up behind the child who 
was standing nearest to the edge of the pier, 
gave a sudden push, which sent him into the 
water, then sprang in after him, and gravely 
brought him to shore. 

To those of us who have had a high 
respect for the disinterestedness of dogs, this 
story may give a melancholy proof that the 
development of the intelligence, at the ex- 
pense of the moral nature, is by no means 
exclusively human. 



\_Feb. 9, 1895.] 
YOUR fondness for dogs induces me to send 


you the following anecdote, which shows 
their power of acting a part for purposes of 
their own. Some years ago a fox-terrier of 
mine was condemned by a veterinary sur- 
geon to consume a certain amount of flour 
of sulphur every day. He was at all times 
a fanciful and dainty feeder, and every con- 
ceivable ingenuity on my part was exhausted 
in the vain endeavour to disguise the daily 
portion and to give it a more tempting ap- 
pearance. Each new device was invariably 
detected. However hungry he might be 
he turned from the proffered morsel in dis- 
gust, and it ended almost invariably in my 
having to put it down his throat. One 
morning, after keeping him for many hours 
without food, and having neatly wrapped the 
powder in a most appetising piece of raw 
meat, I offered it him in the vain hope that 
hunger might prevail over prejudice. But 
no. With averted head and downcast look 
he steadily and determinedly declined to par- 
take of it. I encouraged him in vain. Deep 
dejection on his part ; despair, but persistence, 
on mine. All of a sudden his whole manner 


changed. He assumed a brisk and cheerful 
demeanour, joyfully accepted the hitherto 
rejected offering, and running merrily through 
the open door, disappeared swiftly a few 
yards off round the corner of the building. 
Inside the room I ran as quickly to a 
window, whence I could view his proceed- 
ings, and there watched him while he de- 
posited the hated morsel on the ground, dug 
a hole in the flower-bed, and buried it. His 
jaunty, triumphant air as he returned I shall 
never forget. 




\_July 15, 1892.] 

HAVING read for years your interesting 
letters and articles on animals in the Spec- 
tator, I feel sure you will like to have a 
thoroughly authentic account of a dog in 
this neighbourhood. I am allowed to give 
the name of the owner, who is living at Lyme 
Regis, where I was staying last week. The 
two incidents happened within a few weeks 
of each other. 

Mrs. and Miss Coode were alone in their 
house (except the servants) ; and one night 
Miss Coode was awakened by hearing two 
knocks at her door and a slight whine. It 
was between three and four o'clock in the 
morning. She rose and opened the door to 
find the dog there, and at the same time 
loticed and heard a stream of water running 
Jown the stairs. She went up the staircase 


to its source, and aroused the servants to 
attend to it. As soon as the dog saw that 
the matter was being remedied, he quietly 
went back to the mat in the hall and went to 
sleep again. The dog is a large one, a 
cross between a retriever and a grey- 
hound a very beautiful creature, re- 
sembling a poacher's lurcher. 

The second incident occurred only last 
week, when Miss Coode was again aroused. 
This time by a loud crash, as if a picture had 
fallen. Almost immediately the dog bounded 
upstairs, threw himself against the door, 
which happened to .be ajar, burst into the 
room, panting and eyes glistening, this, at 
least, Miss Coode saw as soon as she struck 
a light, for it was between twelve and one 
o'clock. She went out on to the staircase 
and downstairs to look at the pictures in the 
drawing-room. The dog would not follow. 
The cook, coming down from her room, 
called him a coward not to go with his 
mistress, but Sheppard did not move. Miss 
Coode found all safe below, and returned up- 
stairs, and the dog went with her to the top 


floor, where the ceiling of a small room had 
fallen in. He then retired to his mat, having 
done his duty. He also showed his sagacity 
in going to the daughter's room the one 
most capable of seeing to matters. Hoping, 
as a dog-lover, that this may interest all such, 
and help to prove that dogs think and reason 
more than some human beings also to show 
that we often inferior beings have no right to 
presuppose that the superior animals have no 



[Aug. 5, 1893.] 

THE "dog" letter in the Spectator of July 
1 5th is wonderfully like my experience, some 
years ago, with my little red Blenheim, Frisk. 
She always slept in a basket, close to the 
hall door. One night she dashed up the 
stairs, loudly barking, ran first to my eldest 
sister's room, then through a swing-door to 
another sister's room, barking outside each 
door, then upstairs again to my room at the 
top of the house, where she remained barking 


till I got up and opened it, when she ran in, 
still barking, and waited till I was ready to 
go down with her. She scampered on before 
me, I following close, and when we both 
reached the hall she dashed still barking to 
the door, to show me whence her alarm had 
arisen. It was the policeman turning the 
handle of the door from the outside to see if 
it was properly closed ! One night, a long 
time after the first adventure, I was wakened 
by a quiet scratch at the door of my room. 
No barking this time ; but, tiresome as it 
was to be disturbed on a cold night, I got up 
and opened the door, and was conscious in 
the darkness that Frisk was standing there. 
''Come in, Frisk," said I. But no move- 
ment ; Frisk stood waiting. " Come in, 
Frisk," I repeated, somewhat sharply. No 
movement, no bark! Then, being sure that 
something must be wrong, I lighted a candle, 
and there stood Frisk outside the door, 
never offering to come in. She trotted 
quietly down before me, not speaking a 
word. When we were both through the 
swing-door, and at the head of the stairs, 


I saw that the inner door to the hall was 
open, and also that of the morning-room, 
from which shone a bright light. My heart 
went pit-a-pat for a moment ; then seeing 
Frisk run quietly down the stairs, I followed 
her, when she calmly jumped into her basket 
again, and I, venturing into the morning- 
room, found that my brother-in-law had left 
the lamp burning by mistake a proceeding 
which Frisk plainly knew was wrong, and 
had therefore come upstairs to inform me, 
but had not thought it necessary to disturb 
the rest of the household this time ! She 
had come straight up to my room without 
disturbing any one else, to tell me of the 
irregularity of a light burning when every 
one was in bed, and that being done, jumped 
into bed again, conscious of having performed 
her duty. 


{Aug. 12, 1893.] 

I CAN give an instance as convincing as that 
of Miss Marsh-Caldwell of the way in which 
a true watch-dog will measure the extent of 


his duties. I lived for many years opposite 
a wood, in which the game at first was 
preserved. I had a dog named Prin, who 
had begun by being a gardener's dog, but 
having caught the distemper and been un- 
skilfully treated by his master he remained 
nearly blind, and was left on my hands by 
the man when he quitted my service. The 
dog was a great coward, but good-tempered 
and affectionate, and the partial loss of sight 
seemed to have developed greatly the senses 
both of hearing and smell, so that he was 
recognised as a capital watch -dog. He was 
promoted to the kitchen, and would have 
been promoted to the drawing-room but for 
the obstreperousness of his affection, which 
seemed to know no bounds if he was ad- 
mitted even into the hall. I slept at that 
time in a room over the kitchen, fronting the 
road. One night I was awakened by Prin 
growling, and, after a time, giving a snappish 
bark underneath me. I got out of bed and 
throwing up the sash, listened at the window, 
where, after a time, I heard slight noises, 
which convinced me that some one or more 


persons were hiding in the shrubbery between 
the house and the road, whom I supposed to 
be burglars. I called out, "Who's there?" 
without, of course, eliciting any answer, and, 
after a time, I heard the click of the further 
gate (there being two, one opposite my 
house, the other opposite its semi-detached 
neighbour, and out of my si^ht), after which 
all was quiet. But I had noticed that from 
the moment of my getting out of bed Prin 
had not uttered a sound. The same thing 
happened seven or eight times, and always 
in the same way, Prin growling or barking 
till he heard me get out of bed, and then 
holding his tongue, as feeling that he had 
fulfilled his duty in warning his master, and 
that all responsibility now devolved upon me. 
The secret of the matter I discovered to be 
that poachers, with no burglarious intentions 
towards me, used the shrubbery as a hiding- 
place before getting over the opposite paling 
into the wood. 

One other instance of Prin's sagacity I will 
also mention. I had a black cat, with white 
breast, named Toffy, between whom and 


Prin there was peace, though not affection. 
There was also another black cat, with white 
breast, that prowled about, an outlaw cat, 
who made free with my chickens when he 
could ! It was a bitter winter, and the snow 
had lain already for days on the ground. 
I was walking one Sunday morning in my 
garden, Prin being out with me. He quitted 
me to go under a laurel-hedge bounding a 
shrubbery, and presently began barking 
loudly. I went towards him, and saw a 
white-breasted cat sitting stretched under 
the laurels, with front paws doubled under 
him, which I took to be Toffy asleep. I 
scolded Prin for disturbing Toffy, and he 
stopped barking, but remained on the spot 
whilst I continued my walk. Presently 
say two or three minutes after I heard him 
barking still more loudly than before, and so 
persistently that I returned to the spot. 
Noticing that the cat had never moved 
through all the noise, I crept up under the 
bushes, and found that it was not Toffy 
asleep, but the outlaw cat, dead evidently 
of cold. Thus my poor purblind watch-dog 


had (i) barked to draw my attention to 
what appeared to him an unusual phenome- 
non ; (2), held his tongue in deference to my 
(supposed) superior wisdom, when I told him 
he was making a mistake ; (3), not being, 
however, satisfied in his mind, remained to 
investigate till he was convinced he had not 
been mistaken ; (4), called my attention to 
the facts still more instantly till I was satis- 
fied of them for myself. Could homo sapiens 
have done more ? 

J. M. L. 

{Aug. 12, 1893.] 

I AM reminded by the anecdote related in the 
Spectator Q{ July i5th, "A Canine Guardian," 
of the sagacity of a favourite Scotch terrier 
which was displayed some years ago. I was 
dressing one morning, and my bedroom-door 
was ajar. Standing at my dressing-table, 
I was surprised to see Fan come up to me, 
frisking about, and looking eagerly into my 
face, whether from pleasure or not I could 
not tell. I spoke to and stroked her, but 
she was in no way soothed, and she ran out 


of the room evidently much excited. In she 
came again, more earnestly trying to tell me 
what she wanted, rushing up to me and again 
to the door, plainly begging me to follow her, 
which I did, into the next room, where break- 
fast was laid. I at once saw what she had 
easily felt was out of order the kettle was 
boiling over, and the water pouring from the 
spout had drenched the hearth. Hence her 
discomfort, and her effort to tell me of the 
disaster. Having brought me on the scene, 
she seemed perfectly content. 

C. A. T. 

[Aug. 12, 1893.] 

NOT long ago I was passing a barn-yard in 
this place, and stood to look over the gate at 
a pretty half-grown lamb standing alone out- 
side the barn. But the sight of me so 
enraged a fierce, shaggy grey dog tied up 
to his kennel between the lamb and me, 
that he barked himself nearly into fits, 
showing all his teeth, and straining so 
furiously at his chain as to make me quite 
nervous lest it should give way. In the 


meantime, I struck such terror into the 
heart of the lamb that it fled across the 
yard to place itself under the protection of 
the dog, and stood close by his side, whilst 
he barked and danced with fury. As I drew 
a little nearer, the lamb backed right into the 
kennel, and when, after I had made a circuit 
in order to watch the further movements of 
this strange pair of friends from behind a 
tree, I saw their two faces cautiously looking 
out together, cheek-by-jowl, whilst the dog's 
anger was being reduced to subsiding splut- 
ters of resentment. He was not a collie, but 
a very large sort of poodle. 

C S. 



\_March 25, 1893.] 

AT six o'clock this morning, I saw a 
mountain-shepherd stand at a gate on the 
hill-top. Seven sheep were on the outside 
of the gate six of the shepherd's flock, 
the other a strayer. The man wanted his 
own sheep in ; so, before opening the gate, 
he quietly said: "'Rob,' catch the strayer." 
In an instant "Rob" pinned the sheep, 
holding him, strong and wild as he was, 
as though he were in a vice ; and then, by 
another word, " Gled " was told to bring the 
others in through the gate now opened for 
them. Although "Gled" brought his six 
wild sheep right over "Rob " and his strayer, 
the sheep was held securely till the gate 
was closed, and the order given to "let it 




{Aug. n, 1894.] 

WE stood at the bottom of a deep valley 
with the hills rising abruptly on either side, 
when Robert Scott said : " Yonder is the 
sheep I led away from Llangynider, all those 
weary miles yesterday. I saw it as I came 
over the hill -top down to the house this 
morning. If you wish, "Kate" shall bring 
it down to my feet here for you to see it." 
" What ? bring that single sheep ! How 
will she know the one you want, and how 
can she get it away from the flock by 
itself? I will not believe that possible till 
I see it done, at all events." 

He spoke a low word or two to the 
collie by his side, and away went " Kate " 
right up over rock and bracken, till we 
could see the flock far away upon the height 
above give a very rapid turn, and in a few 
minutes afterwards, down rushed a strong 
mountain wether with the wily " Kate " 
working to the right and left about thirty 
yards behind it. " Come away, back 'ahint 


me," cried Scott ; and " Kate," at once leaving 
the sheep, appeared positively to fly far 
out, and coming round behind us, stopped 
the wether in his headlong course, bringing 
him to a stand literally at the shepherd's 
feet. "Robert," I said, "when (as you 
intend) you sail next month for New 
Zealand, you will not take ' Kate ' with 
you, but leave her here for seven sove- 
reigns." " Nae, nae, sir," was the reply, 
" seventy sovereigns would nae buy her." 




{Feb. 17, 1877.] 

A CORRESPONDENT favoured your readers last 
week (see page 53) with an interesting anec- 
dote of a dog's intelligence in reference to 
the use of money. Permit me to relate an 
instance of a dog's intelligence in reference to 
the day of the week. Some three-and-twenty 
years ago, in the infancy of the Canterbury 
Province, New Zealand, there lived in the 
same neighbourhood as myself two young 
men, in the rough but independent mode 
of life then prevalent in the colony, some- 
what oblivious of old institutions. These 
men possessed a dog each, affectionate 
companions of their solitude. It was the 
custom of this primitive establishment to 
utilise the Sabbath by a ramble, in quest 
of wild ducks and wild pigs, about the 
swamps and creeks of the district. It was 


observed that long before any preparations 
were made for starting, the dogs always 
seemed to be more or less excited. This 
was remarkable enough, but not so much 
as what followed. One of these men after 
a while left his friend, and taking his dog 
with him, went to live with a clergyman 
about four miles off. Here ducks and pigs 
had to be given up on Sundays for the 
church-service. It was soon noticed that 
this dog used to vanish betimes on Sundays, 
and did not turn up again until late. Upon 
inquiring, it was found that the dog had 
visited its old abode, where on that day 
of the week sport was not forbidden. The 
owner tried the plan of chaining up the 
animal on Saturday evenings, but it soon 
became very cunning, and would get away 
whenever it had the chance. On one oc- 
casion it was temporarily fastened to a 
fence-rail about mid-day on a Saturday. 
By repeated jerks it loosened the rail from 
the mortice-holes, and dragged it away. 
Upon search being made, this resolute but 
unfortunate dog was found drowned, still 


fast to the chain and rail, in a stream about 
two miles away in the direction of its old 
haunts. The gentleman who owned the 
other dog is in England now, and went 
over the details of the facts herein stated 
with me quite recently. 




[April 30, 1892.] 

As a subscriber to and constant reader of 
the Spectator, I have derived much pleasure 
from the anecdotes of animal instinct, saga- 
city, and emotion, which from time to time 
have appeared in your columns. Perhaps 
you may like to publish the following 
instance of jealousy in a cow ; it is, at any 
rate, a story at first-hand, as I myself was 
an actor in the affair. 

A few years ago, I had a quiet milch- 
cow, Rose, who certainly was fond of 
Thomas, the man who milked her regularly, 
and she also showed an aversion to dogs 
even greater than is usual in her species. 
One night, for what reason I now forget, 
I had tied up a young collie dog in the 
little cowshed where she was accustomed 
to be milked. The following morning, I 
had just begun to dress, when I heard the 
puppy barking in the cowshed. "Oh!" 
thought I, " I forgot to tell Thomas about 
the puppy, and now the cow will get in 


first and gore it." The next minute I heard 
a roar of unmistakable fear and anguish 
a human roar. I dashed down to the spot, 
and at the same moment arrived my son, 
pitchfork in hand. There lay Thomas on 
his face in a dry gutter by the side of the 
road to the cowhouse, and the cow butting 
angrily at him. We drove off the cow, and 
poor Thomas scuffled across the road, 
slipped through a wire fence, stood up and 
drew breath. " Why, Thomas," said I, 
" what's the matter with Rose ? " " Well, 
sir," said Thomas, " I heard the pup bark 
and untied him, and I was just coming out 
of the cowhouse, with the pup in my arms, 
when 'Rose' came round the corner. As 
soon as she see'd the pup in my arms, she 
rushed at me without more ado, knocked 
me down, and would have killed me if you 
hadn't come up." Thomas had indeed had 
a narrow escape; his trousers were ripped 
up from end to end, and red marks all along 
his legs showed where Rose's horns had 
grazed along them. " Well," said I, " you'd 
better not milk her this morning, since she' 


in such a fury." "Oh! I'll milk her right 
enough, sir, by and by ; just give her a little 
time to settle down like. It's only jealousy 
of that 'ere pup, sir. She couldn't abide 
seeing me a-fondling of it." "Well, as you 
like," said I ; only take care, and mind what 
you're about." "All right, sir!" 

In about twenty minutes, Thomas called 
me down to see the milk. The cow had 
stood quiet enough to be milked. But the 
milk was deeply tinged with blood, and in 
half an hour a copious red precipitate had 
settled to the bottom of the pail. Till then 
I had doubted the jealousy theory. After 
that I believed. 




[May n, 1895.] 

SEEING the great interest which many of 
your readers take in the study of canine 
character and intelligence, I think perhaps 
the following incident is worth recording. 
Whilst walking with a lady friend along 
Studley Park Road, Kew (a residential 
suburb of Melbourne), on a very quiet 
afternoon some time ago, we were surprised 
by a large St. Bernard dog, which came 
up to us and deliberately pawed my leg 
several times. Our perplexity at his extra- 
ordinary behaviour was perhaps not unmixed 
with a little misgiving, for he was an animal 
of formidable size and strength ; but as he 
gave evident signs of satisfaction at our 
noticing him, and proceeded to trot on in 
front at intervals looking round to make 
sure we were following we became in- 
terested. When we had followed him about 
forty yards, he stopped before a door in 
a high garden wall, and, looking round 
anxiously to see that we were noticing, 


reached up his paw in the direction of the 
latch. On stretching forth my hand to 
unfasten the door, his extreme pleasure was 
exhibited in a most unmistakable manner ; 
but when he saw me try in vain to open 
it, he became quiet, and looked at me with 
an expression so manifestly anxious that 
I could no more have left the poor animal 
thus than I could have left a helpless little 
child in a similar position. With eager 
attention and expectancy he listened while 
I knocked, and when at last some one was 
heard coming down the garden path, he 
bounded about with every sign of unlimited 

Now here was one of the so-called 
"brutes," which, failing to get in at a 
certain door, cast about for a way out of 
the difficulty, and seeing us some distance 
down the road (we were the only persons 
in sight at the time), he had come to us, 
attracted our attention, taken us to the door, 
and told us he wanted it opened. We both 
agreed that the animal had all through 
shown a play of emotion and intelligence 


comparable to that of a human being ; and, 
indeed, we felt so much akin to the noble 
creature that we have both, since then, 
been very loath to class dogs as "inferior 




[Feb. 2, 1895.] 

HAVING derived much pleasure from reading 
the frequent natural history notes which 
from time to time appear in the Spectator, I 
venture to send you two instances of what 
seems to me the working of the canine 
mind under quite different circumstances. 
The first refers to an incident which hap- 
pened a great many years ago. It was this. 
One day, when a lad, I was walking with my 
father accompanied by a strong, smooth- 
haired retriever called Turk. We were 
joined by the bailiff of the farm, and in the 
course of our walk Turk suddenly discovered 
the presence of a rabbit concealed in what in 
Scotland is called a " dry-stane dyke." After 
a little trouble in removing some stones, poor 
bunny was caught and slaughtered, being 
handed to the bailiff, who put it in his coat 
pocket. Shortly afterwards we separated, 
the bailiff going to his home in one direc- 
tion, and we to ours in an opposite one. 
Before we reached home we noticed that 


Turk was no longer with us, at which we 
were rather surprised, as he was a very 
faithful follower. Some time after we got 
home, perhaps an hour, I chanced to see a 
strange object on the public road which 
puzzled me as to what it was. It raised a 
cloud of dust as it came along, which partly 
obscured the vision. What was my surprise 
when I found it was Turk dragging a man's 
shooting-jacket, which proved to be the 
bailiff's, with the rabbit still in the pocket. 
We afterwards learnt that the dog, to the 
surprise of the bailiff, quietly followed him 
home, and lay down near him. Presently 
the man took off his coat, and laid it on a 
chair. Instantly Turk pounced upon it, and 
dashed to the door with it in his mouth. 
He was pursued, but in vain, and succeeded 
in dragging the coat from the one house to 
the other, a distance of one mile and 
three-fourths. It was evident the dog had a 
strong sense of the rights of property. He 
believed the rabbit belonged to his master, 
so he set himself to recover what he thought 
stolen goods. 


The other anecdote refers to quite a recent 
date, and the only interest it has, is that it 
shows how perfectly a dog can exhibit facial 
expression, and also read at a glance the 
slightest indications of feeling in the human 
face. I had a well-broken Irish setter, which 
was perfectly free of hare or rabbit as to 
chasing, but he was a sad rascal for all that. 
I also had at the time a rough Scotch terrier, 
and the two dogs were great chums. The 
moment they got the chance they were off 
together on a rabbit-hunt. Like idiots, they 
would spend hours in vainly trying to dig 
rabbits out of their burrows. One day as I 
was returning home I met the pair in the 
avenue. They were the very picture of 
happiness. At first they did not see me, 
and came joyously on at a trot. The instant 
they observed me they came to a full stop, 
some forty yards off. The setter gently 
wagged his tail, and looked at me with an 
expression of anxious inquiry. Taking heart, 
he slowly advanced to within about thirty 
yards, and then came the varying play of 
feature which so interested me. He was in 


great doubt as to whether I had guessed 
what tricks he had been up to; but as I 
made no sign, he was gradually looking 
more comfortable and gaining confidence. 
Suddenly I noticed a patch of mud above 
his nose, and I must have unconsciously 
shown him I had made a discovery of some 
kind, for that instant he turned tail and 
bolted home at the utmost speed of which 
he was capable. Without uttering a single 
word, or making a single gesture, the dog 
and man understood each other perfectly. 
It was the language of faces. 




\_Jan. 1 8, 1890.] 

THE enclosed may interest you. I received 
it this morning. I have no doubt Dr. 
Barford, of Wokingham, would verify it, 
but I have not the pleasure of his acquaint- 
ance. The following is the story : 

" Dr. Barford's dog at Wokingham was 
put into a muzzle ; he objected to it, took it 
off, and hid it somewhere, no one knows 
where. Policeman saw him ; summoned Dr. 
B. ; case was to come off one Saturday. 
The children told dog how wicked he'd 
been : Dr. B. would have to appear at the 
Court, and he too, as it was his doing ; he'd 
lost the muzzle. Case was postponed (I 
think policeman witness had influenza). Dr. 
B. was told of postponement by letter ; 
forgot to tell children or dog. At Saturday's 
Bench, Magistrates much astonished by the 
dog appearing in Court and sitting solemnly 
opposite them." 




\_Feb. i, 1890.] 

SEVERAL newspaper cuttings have been sent 
to me with the story of my dog which 
appeared in the Spectator of January i8th, 
and one or two of them suggest a doubt as 
to the veracity of the story. I write, there- 
fore, to tell you that it is literally true, only 
that the policeman was away for his holiday 
instead of having influenza, and the case 
came off on Tuesday instead of Saturday. 
My dog is a pug, a very choice specimen 
of his kind, and was given to me by the late 
Dr. Wakley, editor of the Lancet, who was 
a great connoisseur in dogs. His intelligence 
is really marvellous, and he has done many 
things as extraordinary as the one related by 
Miss Wood. 

He is devotedly attached to my baby, and 
always accompanies me in my morning visit 
to the nursery. On one occasion the child 
(who is just as fond of him as he is of her) 
was very ill, and for three weeks was un- 
conscious. As soon as this was the case, 
1 4 


the dog ceased to go near the nursery, as if 
by instinct he knew he would not be noticed. 
Mr. Walters from Reading was attending the 
baby, and the dog soon got to know the 
time he paid his visits. He would watch 
him upstairs, and when he came down listen 
most attentively to his report. At length 
the child was pronounced out of danger. 
The very next morning, up went master 
Sam, made his way straight to the child's 
cot, and stood on his hind legs to be 
caressed. Although she had taken no notice 
of any one for some time, she seemed to 
know the dog, and tried to move her hand 
towards him to be licked. He quite under- 
stood the action, licked the little hand 
lovingly, and then trotted contentedly away. 
After this he went up to see her regularly, 
as he had been accustomed to do. He is 
quite a character in the town, and nearly 
every one knows Sammy Weller. 

Before I had this dog, I always thought I 
understood the difference between reason and 
instinct, but his intelligence has quite puzzled 




\Jan. 12, 1884.] 

YOUR correspondent, "W. H. O'Shea," has 
found several dogs " colour-blind," If black 
is a colour, I can give several instances in 
which a black retriever dog of mine was 
certainly not "colour-blind." He had the 
greatest antipathy to sweeps and coalheavers, 
and would fly at them if not fastened up or 
carefully watched. He would even bark at 
a passing hearse ! In all other respects, he 
was the best- tempered dog in the world, and 
I can only imagine that when very young he 
must have been ill-used by either a sweep or 
a coalheaver. 

C. R. T. 



[April 2%, 1877.] 

As letters telling of dogs and their doings 
occasionally appear in the Spectator, perhaps 
the following rather pathetic anecdote of a 
dog I know well may also find a place there. 
Two or three weeks ago, Lucky so called 
from having, when an outcast, found its 
present happy home perhaps by way of 
showing its gratitude to its benefactors, 
presented them with five small Luckys, or 
rather, with one exception, Unluckys, as the 
melancholy process always resorted to with 
these too-blooming families had to be carried 
out in this instance, and the five were re- 
duced to one. Poor Lucky was inconsolable, 
looking everywhere for them, and looking, 
too, with such appealing eyes into the faces 
of her friends, and asking them so plainly 
where they were. Near her kennel was an 
inclosed piece of ground for pigeons, and as 
it was discovered that rats were carrying off 
the young pigeons, and as Lucky had carried 
off one or two rats, it was decided one night 

FROM THE " SPEC T A TOR." 2 1 3 

to leave the door of the pigeons' house open, 
that Lucky might have the run of it ; and 
the next morning, side by side with the 
puppy, was found a baby pigeon, looking 
quite bright and at home, but hungry, and 
poor Lucky, proud of the addition it had 
made to its family, was looking more con- 
tented than it had done since the loss of its 
puppies. The pigeon must have fallen from 
its nest, some distance from the ground, and 
Lucky, while on the look-out for rats, must 
have found it, and carefully carried it to her 
kennel, with the vague feeling, perhaps, that 
it was one of her own lost little ones "de- 
veloping" a little curiously. Unfortunately 
che arrangement could not be a permanent 
one, and the famished little pigeon was put 
back into its own nest, to be found again the 
next morning in Lucky's bed, but this time 
dead. The old birds seem to have deserted 
it, and it had died of starvation. If Lucky 
could give this account herself, it might be 
much more interesting, for it was thought 
not at all improbable that she had actually 
rescued from a rat the bird she was so 


anxious to adopt, as a small wound was 
found upon it such as a rat might have 
made, and as a young pigeon had been 
taken the night before from the same nest ; 
but this is only conjecture, and Lucky only 
could tell us the facts ; how often it would 
be interesting, if our humble friends could 
tell us their adventures ! A friend who is 
staying with me tells me that a few months 
ago her dog was lost for a week, and at the 
end of that time it came back one night in 
a scarlet ruff and spangles, and looking 
altogether dreadfully dissipated. Evidently 
it had been the " performing dog " in some 
show, " Punch and Judy " perhaps ; being 
naturally a clever dog, it would quickly have 
learnt the part of " Toby" in that delightful 
and time-honoured exhibition. If it could 
only have written also an article entitled " A 
Week of My Life," with what pleasure the 
Spectator would have published it ! 




[Feb. n, 

IN the Spectator of December 3ist, which, 
although a regular subscriber to your valuable 
paper, I only happened to see to-day, owing 
to absence from home, I notice a reference 
in the article entitled " The Courage of 
Animals," to the fact that the wild dogs of 
India attack and destroy tigers. I have no 
personal knowledge of the matter, but I have 
been told by an Indian officer that the modus 
operandi of the "red dogs " is as follows : 
Having found their tiger they proceed, not 
to attack him at once, as might be inferred 
from your article, but to starve him until 
they have materially reduced his strength. 
Night and day they form a cordon round 
the unfortunate beast, and allow him no 
chance of obtaining food or rest ; every time 
the tiger essays to break the circle, this is 
widened as the pack flies before him, only 
to be relentlessly narrowed again when the 
quarry is exhausted. After a certain period of 
this treatment the tiger falls a comparatively 

2i6 1)0 G STORIES 

easy prey to his active and persevering 
enemies. This theory of their plan of attack, 
while it may detract somewhat from the wild 
dogs' reputation for courage, must add con- 
siderably to our estimate of their intelligence. 



{Oct. i, 1892.] 

I LATELY met some friends who had with 
them a little dog, called Vic, who had adopted 
the family of a cat in the house, and, while 
in possession, would not let the mother come 
near her kittens. The kittens were kept in 
a very tall basket, and Vic would take them 
in her mouth, and jump out with them one 
by one, and then carry them into the garden 
and watch over them, carrying them back in 
the same way after a time ; at other times, 
lying contentedly with them in the basket. 
Of course Vic had to be forcibly removed 
when the adopted family required their 
mother's attention for their sustenance. I 
also have met a friend who saw a hen-hawk, 
who was in a cage, mothering a young 
starling. Three young, unfledged starlings 
were given the hawk to eat. She ate two, 
and then broodled the other, and took the 
utmost care of it. Unhappily, the young 
starling died ; and from that moment the 


hawk would touch no food, but died herself 
in a few days. 

The same friend was on a mountain one 
day, when a sheep came up to him, and 
unmistakably begged him to follow her 
going just in front, and continually looking 
round to see if he was following. The 
sheep led him at last to some rocks, where 
he found a lamb fast wedged in between two 
pieces of rock. He was able to liberate the 
lamb, to the evident joy of the mother. 

I myself once saw a cat "broodling" and 
taking care of a very small chicken, which, 
being hatched first of a brood, had been 
brought into a cottage and placed in a basket 
near the fire. It managed to get out of the 
basket, and hopped up to the cat, who 
immediately adopted it. 




, 1892.] 

IN a recent Spectator there is a quotation 
from Pierre Loti to the effect that " animals 
not only fear death, but fear it the more 
because they are aware that they have no 
future." Pierre Loti is a brilliant novelist, 
but I am not aware that he is a scientific 
naturalist, and I trust his idea is a mere 
chimera. Loti would take from the brutes 
the one privilege for which men may envy 
them, and endows them with a knowledge of 
the aftertime that we have only by revelation. 
However, two common-sense naturalists have 
published their belief that the lower animals 
have a foreknowledge of death, and one of 
them goes so far as to give an account of an 
old horse committing suicide. He says the 
animal frequently suffered from some internal 
disease, and that it deliberately walked into 
a pond, and, putting its nostrils under water, 
stood thus till it dropped dead from suffoca- 
tion. The incident, I think, is easily explained. 


Many horses drink in the manner described, 
and in old horses heart-disease is not un- 
common. I imagine the stoppage of respira- 
tion caused a sudden and natural death from 

I should like to ask naturalists who think 
animals know that they must die, where they 
draw the line. They must stop somewhere 
between a dog and a dormouse. Poets have 
made far more frequent allusion to the 
subject than naturalists, and they may be 
quoted on both sides. Philip James Bailey, 
in illustration of his contention that hope is 
universal, says : " and the poor hack that 
sinks down on the flints, upon whose eye 
the dust is settling, he hopes to die." But 
we have on the other hand Shelley's Skylark, 
with its " ignorance of pain," because it 
differs from men who "look before and 
after." Wordsworth's little girl of eight 
knew less than her dog, if she had one, for, 
says the poet, " what could she know of 
death ? " I admit that when the carnivora 
have crushed their prey to death they cease 
to mangle them ; but I fancy that is only 


because there is no more resistance ; and 
a bull will trample on a hat and leave it 
when it becomes a shapeless mass. The 
nearest thing I ever saw to an apparent 
foreknowledge of death, was in the case of 
that least intelligent of dogs, a greyhound. 
I had to shoot it to prevent useless suffering 
from disease. It followed me willingly, but 
when I led it to a pit prepared as its grave it 
instantly rushed off at its best speed. I 
suggest that it saw instinctively something 
unpleasant was about to happen, but it does 
not follow that death was present to its mind. 
Domestic poultry will furiously attack one of 
their number that struggles on the ground 
in its death-agony. They do not dream 
of death ; they think its contortions are a 
challenge to combat. 




[Nov. 8, 1873.] 

MAY I be permitted to question, in the most 
friendly way, the assumption of " Lucy 
Field," in your last issue, that the lives of 
small dogs are in constant jeopardy from " a 
race of giant dogs, and exceptionally large 
dogs," at Muswell Hill ? If it be so, then, 
surely the "giant dogs" of that region are 
exceptions. My experience goes to confirm 
the truth taught by Sir Edwin Landseer's 
" Dignity and Impudence," a fine print of 
which adorns my portfolio. I had a broken- 
haired friend, weight about eight pounds, 
learned in two languages, canine and English, 
who rejoiced in the name of Teens, given 
him by babes with whom he condescended 
to play, because he was a " tiny, teeny dog." 
I must confess that my late friend alas ! 
that I should say late who was chivalrically 
brave in killing rats and carrying on war with 
cats, was a very bully, a kind of Ancient 
Pistol towards big dogs. To see him meet 


a Newfoundland or large retriever was as 
good as a play. Teens, with his tail curled 
like the spring of an ancient watch, his 
broken-haired back stiffened with indignation, 
would stand and give the pass-word all dogs 
seem to know, and be overhauled and 
examined as he walked round the giant like 
an English gunboat by a Spanish fifth-rate ; 
but when once the enemy turned his back, 
Teens exploded like a cracker, running 
under the big dog's nose, and often springing 
at his lip. His gigantic, but generous foe 
(or friend) always fled, or walked away, 
followed by a torrent of abusive barks, 
which, from their peculiar intonation, I took 
for dog-slang, and Teens returning with an 
impudent smile on his countenance, wiped 
his feet on the pavement as a sign of 
triumph. I have seen him do this a hundred 
times, and never saw a big dog attempt to 
punish his impudence. Jeems, a black-and- 
tan of smaller weight, who seemed to walk 
upon springs, and who on work-a-days was 
called Jim, and James on Sundays, which 
day he perfectly well knew, was more like 


Parolles. He bullied big dogs at a distance, 
and seldom stood up to them like the truculent 
Teens, and, although he ran away, was 
seldom pursued and never hurt, while the 
Claimant (he was for his size unwieldly in 
fatness as a pup), who (or which) still lives 
with me, is now bullying a shambling 
retriever pup, full-grown, but, like Cousin 
Feenix, uncertain as to his gait, who good- 
naturedly submits to it. Here, perhaps, 
there is danger ; for very big pups will 
pursue any little thing that runs away, and 
one of their large paws, which they put 
down as if they wore heavily clumped boots, 
might certainly crush the life a very noisy, 
fussy, busy life it is out of my small and im- 
pertinent, pretentious Tichborne. This dog, 
by the way, brings down his mistress her 
boots, as a hint for her to take a walk, and 
blows like a trumpet or young walrus under 
the door to be let in, having been corrected 
for scratching the panel. I end as I began, 
by assuring you that my experience, no less 
than that of my friends, lies in the direction 
of extreme generosity exhibited by large 


dogs towards small ones ; I would not deny 
that a large dog may now and then punish 
an impudent and aggressive toy-terrier, but, 
as a rule, we can only wonder at the 
providential wisdom which makes them so 
generous and forbearing ; having a giant's 
strength, they seldom indeed use it like a 




[Nov. 2, 1872.] 

OUR terrier Crib took upon himself yester- 
day to add his testimony to your view of 
" dog-consciousness," as expressed in the 
Spectator of the iQth ult. Crib verges on 
perfection, save that he is frantically jealous 
of any other animal who may receive atten- 
tion, but yesterday he rebelled against the 
injustice of being compelled to eat all his 
dinner, and refused to swallow one special 
piece of bread ; but finding that his refusal 
was not accepted, apparently made a virtue 
of necessity, and gulped down the bread with 
a look and wag of the tail, giving me to 
understand that I ought to be satisfied, 
which I was not, as I observed a slight 
swelling in one cheek. So concealing my 
suspicion I furtively watched. Crib also 
occasionally eyed me, lying down and then 
walking round the room, and sniffing in the 
corners, as he is wont to do. In a few 
minutes, and when I appeared safely 
absorbed in my paper, he made his way 


slowly to where pussy was lapping her saucer 
of milk ; passing her without stopping, he 
cleverly discharged the hated mouthful into 
pussy's milk, and continuing his walk to the 
rug, laid himself down and slept the sleep of 
the just. 

C. S. 



\yune i, 1895.] 

PERHAPS you will allow me to add another 
to your interesting list of dog- stories. In a 
house where I once boarded there was a 
large and remarkably sagacious St. Bernard 
mastiff, who used to come into my sitting- 
room and give me his company at dinner, 
sitting on the floor beside my chair, with his 
head on a level with the plates. His master, 
however, fearing that he was being over-fed, 
gave strict injunctions that this practice 
should no longer be permitted. On the first 
day of the prohibition the dog lay and sulked 
in the kitchen ; but on the second day, when 
the landlady brought in the dishes, he stole 
in noiselessly close behind her, and while for 
the moment she bent over the table, he 
slipped promptly beneath it, and waited. 
No sooner had she retired than he emerged 
from his hiding-place, sat down in his usual 
position, and winked in my face with a look 
which seemed to say, ''Haven't I done her!" 
In due course, the good woman came to 


change the plates, and as soon as he heard 
her step, he slunk once more under the 
table ; but in an instant, ere she had time to 
open the door, he came out again, as if he 
had suddenly taken another thought, and 
threw himself down on the rug before the 
fire to all appearance fast asleep. " Ah, 
Keeper ; you there, you rascal ! " exclaimed 
his mistress, in indignant surprise, as she 
caught sight of him. The dog opened his 
eyes, half raised his body, stretched himself 
out lazily at full length, gave a great yawn 
as if awakened from a good long sleep, and 
then, with a wag of his tail, went forward 
and tried to lick her hand. It was a capital 
piece of acting, and the air of perfect guile- 
lessness was infinitely amusing. 




[March 23, 1872.] 

I THINK you will be interested in the follow- 
ing anecdote of a distinguished foreigner. 
One of the happiest results of that abandon- 
ment of their ancient exclusiveness which 
has rendered us familiar with the Japanese, 
has been the arrival on these shores of a 
very pretty fluffy little dog, a born subject of 
the Mikado, who hails or rather barks from 
Nagasaki, and who is happily domiciled with 
a friend of mine, of a sufficiently elevated 
mind to esteem at its proper value the privi- 
lege of being the master of a clever and 
refined dog. The child of the sun and 
the earthquake has been named Wow, an 
ingenious combination of the familiar utter- 
ance of his kind with the full-mouthed 
terminals of the language of the merely 
human inhabitants of his country. My own 
impression is that Wow smacks rather of the 
melodious monosyllabic tongue of the Flowery 
Land than of that of the Dragon country ; 
but this is a detail, and, as a young naval 


officer newly come from Nipon remarked to 
me lately, with much fervour, " Thank God ! 
a fellow isn't obliged to learn their lingo." 
Wow has made himself at home and happy 
in his Northern residence with all the 
courtesy and suavity of a true Japanese, and 
has attached himself to his master with 
apparent resignation to the absence of pigtail 
and petticoat, articles of attire replaced in 
this case by the wig and gown of a Q.C. 
About this attachment there is, however, 
none of the exclusiveness which characterises 
the insular dog. Wow is a politician, or at 
least a diplomatist, and he desires to main- 
tain friendly relations, with profitable results 
to himself, with everybody. He succeeds in 
doing so to an extraordinary extent, of which 
fact his master lately discovered evidence. 
Very strict orders, including the absolute 
prohibition of bones, had been issued with 
regard to Wow's diet The ideas of a 
country in which little dogs eat, but are not 
eaten, require liberality in his opinion, and 
Wow made up his mind he would have his 
bones without incurring the penalties of dis- 


obedience, which his master, in the interests 
of the delicate foreigner, was determined to 
inflict. A commodious and elegant residence 
was fitted up in the study for Wow, and he 
was permitted free access to the upper floors 
of the house, but the line was drawn at the 
kitchen staircase. That way lay bones and 
ruin, and its easy descent was interdicted by 
stern command, which Wow understood as 
clearly as did its utterer, though he at first 
affected a simple and unconscious misappre- 
hension. Then Wow was reproved and 
gently chastised, an administration of justice 
performed with the utmost reluctance by 
his master, but with the happiest results. 
Nothing could be more admirable than 
Wow's submission, more perfect than his 
obedience. He never looked towards the 
kitchen stairs, and would attend at the family 
meals without following the retiring dishes 
with a wistful gaze, or betraying a longing 
for the forbidden bones by so much as a sniff. 
Attached to the lower department of the 
household is a humble cat, a faithful creature 
in her way, but not cultivated by my friend 


as I could wish. With this meek and useful 
animal Wow contracted a friendship regarded 
by his master as a proof of his amiability and 
condescension. (In my capacity of narrator 
I am compelled to use the latter somewhat 
injurious term as a private individual with 
an undying recollection, I repudiate it). But 
the single-minded Q.C. had something to 
learn of the four-footed exile from the Far 
East concerning this intimacy. Coming into 
his study one day at an unusual hour, he saw 
the cat I do not know her name, I am 
afraid she has not one stealthily depositing 
a bone behind a curtain. Presently she went 
downstairs, and returned with a second bone, 
which she conveyed to the same place of 
concealment, whence proceeded a gentle 
rustling and whisking, suggestive of the 
presence of Wow, whose house, or pagoda, 
was empty. Then arose the Q.C., and 
cautiously peeped behind the curtain, where 
he beheld Wow and his humble friend 
amicably discussing their respective bones, 
Wow's being the bigger and the meatier of 
the two. 


Thus did the Japanese exile illustrate the 
cosmopolitan story of the catspaw (with the 
improvement of making it pleasant for the 
cat), and accomplish the proverbially desir- 
able feat of minding both his meat and his 
manners. If we could be secured against 
their imitation, it would be pleasant to ask 
our own domestic pets the problems : 

" What do you think of that, my cat ? " 
"What do you think of that, my dog?" 




[Jan. 20, 1872.] 

I DARE not hope to equal the eloquent and 
most touching biography of Nero, with 
whom I had the honour of a slight acquaint- 
ance. But I was the possessor of an animal 
who, in his way as a dog, not a cat, for 
originality of character, reasoning power, 
talent, and devoted affection I have never 
seen equalled in his species, and you and 
your readers may possibly be interested by 
a sketch of his biography. 

Where Sprig was born I do not know, nor 
had I any acquaintance with his parents. 
One morning several years ago I chanced to 
go down stairs early, and found the milk-boy 
at the hall door, delivering his daily supply 
to the cook. In the courtyard before my 
house was a bright-looking rough terrier of 
small size, frisking about very cheerfully, 
trying to catch the small stump of a tail 
which some cruel despoiler had left him. 
As he was engaged in this pastime, a large 
brown retriever entered the ^ate, to look on, 


I suppose, for he had an amused expression 
of face, and was wagging his tail amicably. 
Sprig, however, though but a mite in com- 
parison, decidedly resented the intrusion, and 
flew at the retriever's throat, from which he 
had to be choked off by his owner, who 
brought him back in his arms. The 
little fellow was in the highest state of 
excitement and anger, his bright, intelligent 
eyes flashing, and his hair bristling. He 
was indeed most amusingly fierce, but was 
soon calmed when he was shown, and told, 
that his enemy had fled, whereupon the 
following colloquy ensued between myself 
and his owner. Myself: "And where did 
you get that dog, boy ? You did not steal 
him, I hope ? " Boy, in a rich Dublin 
brogue : " Ah, now ! would I stale anythin', 
yer honner, an' me the poor milk-boy ? Is 
it stale him ? Bedad, it's my father's cuzin 
that's at the Curragh ! Sure he's a corporal, 
so he is. He brought him, and he sez, 
' Yez'll get me a pound for him, and no less.' 
So it's a pound I want for him, sur, and 
nothin' less. An' sure John Lambert knows 


me well so he does ! " When John, my 
servant, was sent for, he gave a good account 
of the lad, and as he entirely approved of 
Sprig, I gave the sovereign, showing it to 
the dog, whose wondering eyes were glanc- 
ing from one to the other. Then I said to 
the boy, " Put him into my arms, and tell 
him he belongs to me ; " and he did so. 
The little fellow looked curiously and wist- 
fully at the lad, who, to do him justice, had 
tears in his eyes, and then nestled into my 
breast, licking my hands and face. When 
my daughter came down stairs, I took up 
Sprig and placed him in my youngest 
daughter's arms, a process he appeared to 
comprehend perfectly, and told him she was 
his mistress ; nor to the day of his death did 
he ever falter in his devoted allegiance to 
her. He was very fond of me and of us all, 
but his deepest love was for his mistress, and 
on many occasions was most affecting to see. 
She was often delicate, and once had a sharp 
attack of typhus fever. In this illness Sprig 
never left her. He would lie at the foot of 
her bed watching her, and would sometimes 


creep gently up to her, put his paws round 
her neck, and lick her hands softly, while the 
pleading of his large eyes looking from his 
mistress, in her unconscious delirium, to her 
sister and me, was touching in the extreme. 
Indeed, there were then many sad illnesses, 
but Sprig was always the same. As my 
child grew stronger and better her little 
friend would amuse her by the hour together; 
sit up, beg, preach, play with his ball, and 
try in humble doggie fashion to beguile her 
of her pain. But I am anticipating. 

Sprig was, I believe, what is called a 
Dandie Dinmont, and as he grew up he 
became, for his class, a very handsome, as he 
was a sturdy, little fellow, with great strength 
for his size. He was a reddish-brown colour, 
more dark-red than brown, like a squirrel, 
with white below, and a delightfully fuzzy 
head, and a breast of long soft white hair. 
His eyes were that peculiar bright liquid 
"dog" brown which is capable of so much 
expression, and he grew to have a long 
moustache and beard. Even the most un- 
observant of dogs admired him, for he 


resembled no terrier I have ever seen. I 
think he would have won the prize of his 
class at the Dublin Dog Show, had it not 
been for a terrible accident he met with in 
being wounded by a large foxhound in a 
neighbouring orchard. His neck was then 
torn open, and he was rescued by John only 
in time to prevent his being killed. As it 
was, it was weeks before he could walk 
and how patient he was all the time ! and as 
the wound healed it left a thickening of his 
skin which had an awkward look. Sprig 
was, however, " highly commended." In 
his youth he was perhaps rather short in his 
temper, and always resented in the most 
distinct manner any liberty that was taken 
with him. To tread upon his foot was 
perilous, but he was at once pacified if an 
apology was made that it was accidental ; but 
to pull his tail wilfully was an insult which 
he resented bitterly, and for which much 
atonement was necessary, or he would go 
under the sofa and cry in his peculiar manner 
when offended. 

As he grew up, Sprig developed various 


talents which were highly cultivated. His 
greatest pleasure, perhaps, was in an india 
rubber ball, with which his gambols were 
indescribably pretty and constant. It was a 
great distress when he lost or mislaid his 
ball, and he was miserable till he found it, 
or another was brought him. It was a cruel 
thing to say, when one of us went to town, 
"Sprig, I will bring you a new ball," and as 
sometimes happened, to forget to do so. On 
return he would sniff about the person who 
had gone, poke his nose into his or her 
pockets, and if disappointed could hardly be 
soothed, but would go away and have his 
quiet cry to himself. Sometimes a kind 
friend who knew him might bring him a new 
ball ; but it very much depended on who 
presented it whether it was accepted or not, 
and I am afraid that too frequently for his 
good manners he turned it over contemp- 
tuously with his nose and left it for the old 
one, which, gnawed, bitten, and broken, was 
stiil the favourite. I used sometimes to 
make a ball squeak by pressing the hole 
against my hand, and I believe he thought 


it was in pain, for he would whine piteously, 
and would not let me rest till he had it again 
in his possession. It was most amusing to 
see him when a parcel of new balls arrived, 
he having been told beforehand that one was 
coming. He would find out directly who 
had it, and become impatient and cross 
indeed if he did not get it directly. When 
the parcel was given him, his great delight 
was to open it himself and select one. A red 
ball was usually preferred, but not always. 
All were subjected to the most varied trials 
gnawed, smelt, and rolled, till the one 
which pleased his fancy was finally selected ; 
of the rest he would take no notice what- 

Sprig was thoroughly a gentleman, and on 
most occasions he was most attentive to lady 
visitors. He never noticed gentlemen. On 
one occasion, when my daughters were out, 
a dear friend called (Nero's mistress). She 
told us afterwards that Sprig had been a 
most attentive beau. He met her at the hall 
door, welcomed her in his odd fashion, 
trotted before her into the drawing-room, 


looking behind him to see if she followed. 
He then jumped upon the ottoman, inviting 
her to sit down ; when she was seated he 
brought his ball and went through all his 
tricks with it, sat up on his hind legs, begged 
with his paws, preached to her in his own 
queer way, and kept her amused till, no 
longer able to remain, she bid him good 
morning and left, evidently to his disgust. 
" Could he have spoken," she said after- 
wards, " he would have told me to wait, for 
his mistresses would soon be back ; the look 
was in his face, but the words were wanting." 
His attention to visitors was never omitted. 
When we had a ball or evening party, he 
would await, with John Lambert, the several 
arrivals at the hall door, welcome each new 
party, and usher them in a solemn manner 
into the drawing-room or tea-room, returning 
for a new set to his former place. Nor did 
he want for an occasional cake or biscuit at 
the tea-table ; " he was so amiable," said the 
young ladies, " he could not be resisted." 

As an instance of how perfectly he under- 
stood what was said to him, I may relate 


that one hot day I had walked out from 
town, and being thirsty went into the dining- 
room for a drink of water. I saw Sprig's 
ball under the table, and when I went into 
the garden where my girls were sitting they 
said, " Sprig has lost his ball, and is perfectly 
miserable." After I had sent him to look 
about for it, I said, "Now, Sprig, I know 
where it is ; I saw it in the dining-room 
under the table ; go fetch it." He looked 
brightly at me, and I repeated what I had 
said. He trotted off, and while we were 
wondering whether he had understood me, 
he returned with it in his mouth quite 
delighted. I have mentioned his preaching, 
which may sound rather irreverent, but it 
was an accomplishment entirely of his own 
invention. When seated in a chair after 
dinner, and requested to preach, he would 
sit up, place his forepaws gravely on the 
table, and then lifting up one paw as high 
as his head, and then the other, deliver a 
discourse to the company in a sort of gur- 
gling, growling manner, with an occasional 
low bark, which was indescribably ludicrous 


to see and hear. What he meant by it we 
could never find out, but I question whether 
he prized any of his accomplishments more 
than this. 

Sometimes, but not often, he would go out 
by himself to take a walk, we supposed to 
see his friends, for I never heard that he had 
any love affairs. If we all, or my daughters, 
or myself, met him on his return, I, or they, 
or we all might call to him, notice him as he 
brushed past us, or ask him to come for a 
walk. No. He would have none of our 
company ; he would cut us dead, and go 
toddling home, his tail more erect and 
quivering than ever ; never hastening his 
sedate pace, and giving his usual kick-out 
with one hind leg every third or fourth step, 
as was his custom. He would have no connec- 
tion with us ; that was quite clear and decided. 
Sprig was very fond, too, of a walk with his 
mistresses or with me, and, though never 
taught it, would always wipe his feet clean 
on the hall mat as he came in. I am now 
going to relate an anecdote of Sprig which 
I know is almost beyond credibility, but the 


occurrence so displayed his power of thought 
and reason that I cannot withhold it. My 
usual haunt is my den, as I call it, a large 
room at one end of our old rambling house. 
There Sprig never came unless with his 
mistresses, and indeed never was easy when 
he was there. I had begun a large full- 
length picture of my daughters, and Sprig 
and Whisky, a small Skye puppy, were to be 
painted lying at their feet. As the picture 
progressed, Sprig seemed to understand all 
about it, and paid me the compliment ot 
wagging his tail at the portraits. One day 
my girls had been sitting to me, and it was 
now Sprig's turn to sit. I put him into the 
proper position and told him to lie still, and 
he proved a most patient sitter. When the 
sketch of him was finished, I showed it to 
him ; I think he was pleased with his like- 
ness, for he licked my face ; but as he smelt 
at his portrait, he did not like himself, and 
growled. Whisky was now put into position, 
but was very restless, although Sprig scolded 
her by snarling at her. Next day I had put 
the picture against the wall near the window, 


and before a few steps which led up into my 
bedroom, and was busy perched on a step- 
ladder with the after-portion of it. By and 
by I heard a great scratching at my bedroom 
door, which was closed, and Sprig whining 
to get in. I thought this odd, but it was too 
much trouble to come down from my perch, 
and I told him to go away. He, however, 
only whined and scratched the more. I 
therefore descended, and getting behind the 
picture, went up the steps and opened the 
door. Sprig did not notice me, but pushing 
past me hurried down the steps, and then, as 
I emerged into the room, looked up to me 
blandly, and actually sat down in the place 
in which I had put him the day before. I 
said to him gravely, though infinitely amused, 
" No, Sprig, I don't want you to-day ; look, 
the colour is all wet, go away to your 
mistress." He looked very blank and 
greatly disappointed, and stood up with his 
tail drooped. Suddenly a bright thought 
seemed to strike him, as if he had said, 
" Now I have it ! " Whisky had got hold 
of one of my slippers, and was playing with 


it in my bedroom, and Sprig, rushing up the 
steps, seized her by the "scruff" of her neck, 
dragged her howling down the steps, and put 
her, I can use no other words, into the place 
where she had been the day before. He 
then came to me frisking about, and could 
he but have spoken, would have said, "If 
you don't want me, you must her, and there 
she is ! " He was quite triumphant about it; 
and dirty as I was, and palette in hand, I 
took him forthwith to the drawing-room and 
told them what had happened. 

I could tell numberless other stories of the 
reasoning power and intelligence of our little 
pet, but I should trespass at too great length 
on your patience. I could describe a curious 
friendship which sprang up between him and 
a German friend who was staying some time 
with us ; how he learned many new tricks 
from him, and was taught to hop on his hind 
legs from one end of the drawing-room to 
the other, with our friend hopping backwards 
before him ; I could describe his evening 
romps with my dear father, never omitted 
while my father lived ; and the many curious 


traits by which his great love for us was 
perpetually displayed how he learned to 
crack nuts of all kinds, and to pick out the 
kernels like a squirrel how he never went 
into the servants' hall or the kitchen, and 
refused to associate with the servants, though 
friendly with them, and especially with John 
Lambert, his fast friend. But I must bring 
this sketch to a close. 

We had been absent about a year in 
Germany and the South of France. After 
we left, Sprig was inconsolable, and would 
not eat ; but the cook made him little curries 
and rice, and after a time he became more 
resigned. We only heard that he was well, 
and hoped we should find him so. The day 
we arrived I thought he would have died for 
joy. He gasped for breath, and lay down, 
and when taken up by his mistress lay in her 
arms almost insensible. It was long before 
he came to himself, and when he did revive, 
it is quite impossible to describe his delight, 
or what he did. He was, indeed, quite 
beside himself with joy, scouring about, 
dragging his mistress here and there, doing 


all his tricks in a confused manner, and, in 
short, behaving after a very insane fashion 
indeed. We noticed he had a slight cough ; 
but he seemed otherwise quite well, and we 
thought it would go away , but it increased, 
and at that time there was an epidemic of 
bronchitis among dogs. We sent him to an 
eminent veterinary surgeon, who blistered 
him (and how patient the poor fellow was 
under the pain cannot be told), but though 
relieved for the time, the end was near. 
One morning he was seen to do an ap- 
parently quite unaccountable thing. He 
took his son Terry (whom he was never 
known to notice except by knocking him 
over and standing upon him, growling 
fiercely), all round our village, and visited all 
the dogs in it. John saw him doing this 
early in the morning, and told me of it I 
suppose he was commending Terry to their 
favour. He coughed a great deal all day, 
and breathed heavily ; but in the evening he 
was very bright, and to all appearance much 
better, and insisted on doing all his tricks 
till it was time to go to bed. Sprig never 



would go to bed willingly. John used to 
come to the drawing-room door and call him, 
and he would go to it, but stand growling 
till he was caught up and carried off. That 
evening, as we remembered, he seemed more 
than ever unwilling to go, but was caught up 
and carried away. 

In the morning, about six o'clock it was 
summer-time I was just about to get up, 
when John Lambert knocked at my door, 
and came in with Sprig in his arms. He did 
not speak, and I asked him whether Sprig 
was worse. "He's dead, sir," said he, with 
the tears rolling down his face, and hardly 
able to speak. " Quite dead, sir ; he must 
have died only a little while ago, for when I 
went to let him out, I found him dead and 
quite warm, as he is still." I am not 
ashamed to write that my eyes felt very 
blind, but there was no hope ; the dear little 
fellow was quite dead ; he had died calmly, 
and his eyes were bright ; they had not 

We buried him, John and myself, when he 
was quite cold and stiff, by a rose-tree at the 


end of the garden. Poor John could hardly 
dig the grave, and his tears fell fast and 
silently and upon dear old Sprig as we 
covered him up for ever. I wish I could 
write a fitting epitaph for a creature who, 
through his life, was a constant source of 
pleasure to all who knew him. 

M. T. 



[June 8, 1895.] 

A FRIEND thinks I ought to add to the 
collection of dog stories appearing in the 
Spectator, one which is within my own 
knowledge, and may appear deserving of 
publication. My uncle, a well-known Chair- 
man of the Bench of Magistrates in a 
western county, had a tenant on his estates 
who occupied a farm not far from the River 
Severn. The farmer possessed a favourite 
dog, who slept at the foot of his bed every 
night. When a brother emigrated to Canada, 
the farmer gave him the dog as a travelling 
companion. In the course of time the news 
arrived that the emigrant and his family, 
together with the dog, had safely reached 
their destination a farm in the interior of 
Canada some days' journey from the port 
where they landed. At a later date the 
brother in Canada wrote to his family in 
England saying that the dog had disappeared. 
Some time afterwards the dog came back to 
the farm of his old master about three miles 


from Gloucester, and though at first it could 
hardly be believed that he was returned from 
Canada, yet he soon established his identity 
by taking his old place at the foot of his 
master's bed at night. Inquiries were made, 
and the dog's course was traced backwards 
to the River Severn, thence to Bristol, and 
thence to a port in Canada. It appeared 
that, after running from his home in 
Canada to the seaport, he selected there a 
vessel bound for Bristol, and shipped on 
board. After arriving at the Bristol basin, 
he found out a local vessel trading up and 
down the River Severn (locally called a 
"trow"), and transferred himself to her 
deck. When he reached the neighbourhood 
of Gloucester, the dog must have jumped 
into the Severn and reached the shore 
nearest to his old home. 

I can vouch for the truth of this story, 
from information received from my relations 
on the spot shortly after the occurrence took 
place. I knew the farm well, and the farmer 
who occupied it. 

H. C. N. 



\June 8, 1895.] 

THE interesting letter, " A Canine Nurse," 
in the Spectator of May i8th, recalls to 
mind an equally curious event in cat and dog 
life which occurred some years since in a 
house where I was living, but with the 
additional interest of a hen being also 

In the back-kitchen premises of an old 
manor-house, amongst hampers, and such 
like odds and ends, a cat had a litter of 
kittens. They were all removed but one, 
and as the mother was frequently absent, a 
hen began laying in a hamper close by. For 
a time all things went well, the hen sitting on 
her eggs and the cat nursing the kitten 
within a few inches of each other. The 
brood were hatched out, and almost at the 
same time the old cat disappeared. The 
chickens were allowed to run about on the 
floor for sake of the warmth from a neigh- 
bouring chimney, and the kitten was fed 
with a saucer of milk, &c., in the same place, 


both feeding together frequently out of the 
same dish. The hen used to try to induce 
the kitten to eat meal like the chicks, calling 
to it and depositing pieces under its nose in 
the most amusing way ; finally doing all in 
its power to induce the kitten to come, like 
her chicks, under her wings. The result was 
nothing but a series of squalls from the 
kitten, which led to its being promoted from 
the back to the front kitchen, where it was 
reared until it was grown up. At this time a 
young terrier was introduced into the circle, 
and after many back-risings and bad language 
on pussy's part, they settled down amicably 
and romped about the floor in fine style. 
Eventually the terrier became an inveterate 
rabbit-poacher killing young rabbits and 
bringing them home a proceeding to which 
the cat gave an intelligent curiosity, then a 
passive and purring approval, and finally her 
own instincts having asserted themselves, 
she went off with the dog, hunting in the 
woods. Our own keeper reported them as 
getting "simply owdacious," being found a 
great distance from the house ; and keepers 


of adjacent places also said the pair were 
constantly seen hunting hedgerows on their 
beats. On one occasion I saw them myself 
hunting a short hedge systematically, the 
dog on one side, the cat on the other ; and 
on coming near an open gateway a hare 
was put: out of her form, and bounding 
through the open gate, was soon off ; the 
dog followed, till he came through the gate- 
way, where he stood looking after the hare ; 
and the cat joining him, they apparently 
decided it was too big or too fast to be 
successfully chased, so resumed the hedge- 
hunting, each taking its own side as before. 

They frequently returned home covered 
with mud, and pussy's claws with fur, and 
would lie together in front of the fire ; the 
cat often grooming down the dog, licking 
him and rubbing him dry, and the dog 
getting up and turning over the ungroomed 
side to be finished. This curious friendship 
went on for six months or more, till the dog 
had to be kept in durance vile to save him 
from traps and destruction, the cat, nothing 
daunted, going on with her poaching until 


one day she met her fate in a trap, and so 
brought her course to an end. The dog was 
a well-bred fox-terrier, and the cat a tabby of 
nothing beyond ordinary characteristics, save 
in her early life having been fostered by a 
hen, and in her prime the staunch friend and 
comrade of poor old Foxie, the terrier. If 
there are " happy hunting-grounds " for the 
animals hereafter, and such things are 
allowed in them, no doubt they will renew 
their intimacy, if not their poaching forays, 
together there. 




\March 14, 1885.] 

I HAVE been much interested in the com- 
munications which have appeared from time 
to time in the Spectator in reference to 
" animal intelligence." Recently my atten- 
tion has been called to a somewhat striking 
illustration of it, in the case of my own 
dog and his canine neighbour next door. 
Wallace is an Irish staghound, and is about a 
.rear old. My neighbour's dog is a pointer, 
and is considerably advanced in life. There 
is no hedge nor fence separating the two 
estates. The dividing line runs between two 
stone posts about a foot in height, and more 
than two hundred feet from each other. The 
dogs have never been friendly, the pointer 
having repeatedly driven Wallace back over 
the boundary when he has caught him 
trespassing. Both dogs, even when going at 
full speed, stop the moment my dog has 


crossed the line. How does the pointer 
know where the line runs, and how does 
Wallace know when he is safely across it ? 





[Oct. 26, 1895.] 

THE following example of canine intelligence 
may interest your readers, and help to 
establish the fact that dogs do understand 
human language more than is generally 
realised. Not long ago, one of my guests 
was describing to me one evening, after 
dinner, how much she suffered from cold 
feet, especially at night. In the course of 
our talk I said to her, " You ought to use a 
hot-water bottle, and I can lend you one 
to-night." On which she told me that she 
always took one about with her. In a very 
short time, my collie, having slipped from 
the room unobserved, returned with my 
friend's indiarubber hot-water bottle, which 
he had brought down from her bedroom. I 
inquired where it was kept, and was told it 
had been hung on a hook by the window. 


So the dog must have taken some trouble to 
accomplish his purpose. I should add thai 
the dog has a trick of bringing down shoes 
occasionally from upstairs, but has never 
before or since brought down any other 

S. B. 





[Nov. 30, 1895.] 

I HAVE two dogs, a spaniel and a little High- 
land terrier, also a cat. The latter has a 
kitten, born last Monday week. All the rest 
of her family were drowned, and this, I 
suppose, has made her rather suspicious of 
being moved about, for on Saturday last her 
hamper was put out into the yard while the 
floor of the washhouse was scrubbed. It 
was put back again in the usual place, and 
the cat seemed quite happy. However, 
some hours after, the kitten was found to be 
missing, and the cat was sitting contentedly 
on a chair in the little hall. We all hunted 
high and low for the kitten, but could not 
find it. At last I returned to the dining- 
room, where the two dogs were lying before 
the fire, and I said casually to the terrier, 
" Do show me where the kitten is," never 
really thinking that she understood me, 
when she solemnly got up, walked round me, 


under the table, and came to my other side, 
then stood looking at a small cupboard, 
wagging her tail. I opened the cupboard, 
and there lay the kitten on a tea-cosy ! I at 
once called to my cousin, who had by this 
time given up the hunt and was in her own 
room. She called to know where it was 
found, and I said, "Go down to the dining- 
room and ask the dogs to show you." She 
then went and said, " Dear dogs, do show 
me where the kitty is," and immediately the 
spaniel got up and went to the. cupboard, 
looking at the door and wagging her tail. 
They certainly both understood what was 
wanted of them. The spaniel was born in 
1887, and has been in my possession since 
she was about six weeks old. The terrier is 
about the same age, but I have only had her 
since December, 1890. 




[Nov. 30, 1895.] 

ABOUT a fortnight ago I was given a fox- 
terrier, on condition that if it did not suit me 
I should return it to the donor. Last 
Sunday evening I was sitting in the drawing- 
room with my wife, the dog lying on his mat 
by the fire. I said that I was dissatisfied 
with the dog, and should write and offer to 
return him. My wife urged me to do so 
then and there, and, after discussing the 
matter for a short time, I got up to pen the 
letter. As I did so, the servant came to 
take the dog for a run prior to turning in for 
the night. No sooner was the garden-door 
opened than off went the dog, full speed, into 
the darkness, and has not been heard of 
since. He had always been taken out in the 
same way before, and had always come in on 
being called. Whether he understood the 
conversation I cannot tell. All I can say is 
that I can offer no other explanation for his 
disappearance. My wife and the servant 


who let the dog out can vouch for the truth 
of these particulars. The letter which I 
wrote offering to return him lies before me 
unposted, "to witness if I lie." 




[Dec. 14, 1895.] 

MAY I add my testimony to the intelligence 
of dogs in the matter of understanding what 
is said in their hearing ? Several years ago 
I had a beloved mongrel fox-terrier named 
Joe. We were staying some months at 
Penzance, and the dog went everywhere 
with us, and knew the place well. One day 
we were, as usual in the afternoon, on the 
club tennis ground, when the secretary came 
up and warned me that on the following day, 
as there was to be a tournament, no dogs 
would be admitted to the enclosure. I 
promised to shut Joe up at home. That 
evening we missed the dog, and in the 
morning also he was not to be seen. When 
we went to look on at the tournament in the 
afternoon, we found Joe waiting for us ; 
the groundman told us that the dog had 
been there all night, and would not allow 
himself to be caught. He had never slept 
out before, and he certainly must have 


understood what was said. We often used 
to say, " We will drive to such a place 
to-day, but Joe must stay at home," and 
almost invariably, in whatever direction it 
might be, before we had driven a mile, we 
found Joe waiting for us by the roadside ; 
he always grinned when we came up with 




{June 22, 1895.] 

YOUR article on "The Emotion of Grief in 
Animals," in the Spectator of June 15, leads 
me to send you an account of what happened 
to me. Some years ago I was out riding, 
accompanied by my two dogs an Irish 
water-spaniel and a bull-terrier. I had a fall 
and broke my thigh. The distress of the 
dogs was touching to see. They ran to and 
fro, barking and howling, apparently to 
attract attention. When assistance came, I 
was carried home on a hurdle, the two dogs 
trotting one on either side of it ; and when 
the bearers put the burden down to rest, they 
jumped on to it, licking my face and hands. 
For several days the spaniel lay for hours in 
the carriage-drive, apparently watching for 
his master. One morning, when the post- 

18 273 


man delivered the letters, the servant gave 
the dog my newspaper, and with, u Bring it 
along, Paddy," he carried it upstairs into my 
room. His joy at seeing me was worth 
beholding ; and from that day he regularly 
met the postman, carried the newspaper off, 
and laid it on my bed. He was scarcely ever 
after absent from the room or the passage 
leading to ic. 

T. W. 



[June 29, 1895.] 

THE dog story told by a correspondent in 
the Spectator of June 22, illustrative of "the 
emotion of grief in animals," recalls to my 
mind an incident in which a dog's grief at the 
loss of a companion, and memory, are both 
displayed. Dutch was a brown retriever of 
advanced years ; Curly was reputed to be a 
Scotch terrier, but his appearance suggested 
some uncertainty in his descent. Dutch was 
chained to her kennel, and Curly, who en- 
joyed his liberty, evinced his friendship by 
frequently taking bones and other canine 
delicacies to his less fortunate friend. One 
morning Curly presented himself at the 
house evincing unmistakable signs of grief 
by his demeanour and his whines. A visit to 
the kennel, where poor Dutch was found 
lying dead, showed the occasion of Curly's 
unhappiness. We buried Dutch decorously 
under a vine in the garden, and supposed 
that Curly would forget the incident, but we 


were touched to see him, in the capacity of 
faithful mourner, frequently revisit the spot 
where his old friend was laid, taking with 
him by way of offering, choice bones, which 
he carefully buried by the grave. This 
practice Curly continued for two years, when 

we left the house. 

A. E. W. 



[June 29, 1895.] 

YOUR very interesting paper, in the Spectator 
of June 15, on " The Emotion of Grief in 
Animals," leads me to write to you upon 
what appears to be a very strong appearance 
of it in a pug-dog, who in many ways shows 
signs of almost human intelligence, thought, 
and judgment. Wrinkle was unusually 
strong and active' for one of his race. 
Duchess, his canine friend and companion, 
nearly of his own age, was brought up with 
him, and was a large St. Bernard. These 
dogs always acted together ; Wrinkle did the 
thinking, Duchess followed his lead in every- 
thing, the smaller dog being fully accepted 
as the master. Among their amusements 
were mimic fights on the lawn, in which 
Wrinkle developed marvellous skill, and in 
races, which, by cleverness rather than speed, 
he generally won. Fierce as these mock- 
battles were, no case of a real quarrel evei 
occurred. They would share a bone 


amicably, Wrinkle taking always the first 
turn at it. After the dogs attained maturity, 
their play and companionship continued. It 
happened, unfortunately, some years ago, 
that the St. Bernard died by accidental 
poisoning. Wrinkle attended the funeral 
almost in silence, the only evidence of 
sympathy being the tears that ran down his 
short nose. 

The successor of Duchess was a deer- 
hound, Huldah, a cheerful, playful, and 
gentle-tempered beast. Wrinkle accepted 
the new companionship complacently, did not 
resent an occasional occupation of his bed, 
and to a certain extent trained the deer- 
hound to assume the guardianship that the 
St. Bernard had always taken in their walks 
and excursions ; but play and romping were 
resented, the mimic fights and races were 
over for ever. A few days later a sprightly 
fox-terrier was added to the family, and re- 
ceived toleration and countenance to nearly 
the same extent as the deerhound, but play 
and sport were still refused. Wrinkle is 
sociable and friendly, in a dignified and 


superior way, with most of the dogs he meets, 
but has never been known to play with any 
since Duchess died ; he insists on retaining 
his mastership, and seems able to assert it 
without ill-temper or quarrelling. To his 
mistress, my daughter, he devotes all his 
affection as he always did, but for none of 
his own race can he afford to give such love 

as he had for his lost friend. 

E. W. Cox. 



[June 22, 1895.] 

MAY I give another instance of a dog's 
fidelity to a dead master ? The curate of 
a parish adjoining mine in the Vale of 
Evesham, having died in the hamlet in which 
he served, was buried in the parish church- 
yard, some two miles distant. His dog had 
had been shut up till after the funeral, 
and, when let loose, was supposed to be 
lost. It was found some days afterwards 
lying on its master's grave. He came 
from Newfoundland, and I rather think 
had brought the dog from thence. When I 
was dining with another incumbent near 
Evesham, his dog walked in. It had been 
given to a gentleman who lived near Birming- 
ham, and sent thither by train, but found its 
way back, more than thirty miles. The 
same thing happened, not long ago, near this, 
and the dog, which came from Londonderry, 
must have made its way all round Lough 
S willy, a distance of many miles. It had 
been sent by railway and steamboat. 

N. S. BATT, A.M. 



[June 22, 1895.] 

IT must be a quarter of a century since 
u Grey friars' Bobby " blazed the comet of a 
season. The authorised version of the story 
is practically that which appeared in the 
Spectator of June 15. If the question is not 
raised now, it will be too late to do so 
in the future. Was Bobby an impostor ? 
I have heard his achievements questioned 
in Edinburgh. I have been informed that 
Bobby was so trained in hypocrisy that 
he lost all self-respect. The dog, it was 
averred, went home with the sexton regu- 
larly at night, and returned with him to the 
graveyard in the morning, and then, like any 
other trained mendicant, took up his pitch on 
the grave of his quondam master. Trained 
or not, Bobby was an interesting little 
fellow, and until his death, he was to be seen 
by day on his master's grave, which he would 
leave about one o'clock. Then he regularly 
paid a visit to Trail's dining-rooms, con- 
tiguous to the churchyard, where he was sure 


of a hearty welcome, and having appeased 
his hunger, he would again hie away to the 
grave, receive visitors while the sexton re- 
ceived tips, and at nightfall leave the grave- 
yard with the grave-digger. If Bobby was 
an impostor, his career ought to be laid 



[We do not believe in this view of " Grey- 
friars' Bobby," having received a totally dif- 
ferent account of him in Edinburgh eight or 
nine years ago. ED. Spectator. 



[August 17, 1895.] 

MAY I send you another dog story ? My 
dog, a half-retriever, half-setter, has been 
with me for six years since I rescued him as 
a puppy with a can on his tail. He has fol- 
lowed me constantly, and though always very 
friendly with everybody, has been devoted to 
me both indoors and out. Lately a change 
has come over him ; he would come into my 
room when called, but would take the first 
opportunity to go out. He seemed to be 
dull, to have lost his old joyousness in our 
companionship. Last fall my children went 
to England, and I thought he missed them. 
He would leave my room to lie under the 
kitchen-table, and would follow the hired boy 
about the place, so I told the housekeeper to 
keep him out of the kitchen, and the boy to 
take no notice of him. It made no difference. 
Forbidden the kitchen, he would leave my 
room and lie in the hall. He had always 
been accustomed to follow me almost every- 


where, whether riding or driving ; but this 
year, thinking the journey to town (sixteen 
miles) and back too much for him, I had left 
him at the ranch when going to town. Last 
Saturday I was driving to town, the dog 
started to follow, and as the boy was going 
to send him back, I said, " Oh ! never mind; 
let him come," and he came with us. Now 
the whole mystery is explained. On our 
return, the dog quite resumed his old habits. 
The change was extraordinary. He comes 
into my room and stays there as a matter 
of course ; he greets me every morning on 
coming downstairs ; he jumps round in the 
old joyous fashion when I go out in fact, is 
himself again. Evidently the trip to town 
was one of his most cherished privileges, and 
he took his own way to show that he had no 
use for a master who deprived him of it. 

L. C. H. 



{December 14, 1895.] 

As I know your columns are always open to 
well-authenticated stories of the wonderful 
gifts of our four-footed friends, I venture to 
think that you will be interested in the fol- 
lowing anecdote. Thirty years ago I was 
living in St. George's Square, Pimlico, and 
near me in Denbigh Street, at a distance 
of ten minutes' walk resided a well-known 
journalist, Mr. Percy Gregg. He had a little 
black-and-tan dog, for which I found a home 
when his master was about to leave London. 
It was reported to me that Jimmie always 
left my house after breakfast. At first some 
alarm was felt that he would stray ; but as he 
invariably returned after an hour's stroll, I 
took him to be one of those " vagrom " 
animals who cannot live without a prowl in 
the streets, and I felt no anxiety. But I 
ascertained that whenever he went away, he 
carried off a bone or something edible with 
him. 1 watched him one or two mornings, 
and saw him squeeze through the area-railings, 


on each occasion carrying a big bone, which 
he had great difficulty in steering through the 
iron bars. Being curious about the destina- 
tion of the food I made up my mind to follow 
him. I tracked him to an empty house, next 
to that in which his former owner had lived. 
In a cellar in the area there lived a half- 
starved, ownerless terrier, who, I suppose, 
had once been a friend of Jimmie's, and whom 
my dog, in his days of prosperity, never forgot. 
Regularly the good little fellow trotted off to 
the empty cellar, and divided his morning's 
meal with his poor friend. The story is told 
of the great Napoleon riding over one of his 
battlefields I don't know whether it was 
Wagram or Austerlitz and pointing to a 
faithful dog watching the body of his dead 
master, with the words, " That dog teaches 
us all a lesson of humanity ! " So did 




[August 24, 1895.] 

I OFTEN see interesting letters in the Spec- 
tator about dogs, and I thought perhaps your 
readers might care to hear about the best- 
known dog in Australia, and his curious mode 
of life. His name is Railway Bob, and he 
passes his whole existence on the train, -his 
favourite seat being on the top of the coalbox. 
In this way he has travelled many thousands 
of miles, going over all the lines in South 
Australia. He is well known in Victoria, 
frequently seen in Sydney, and has been up 
as far as Brisbane ! The most curious part 
of his conduct is that he has no master, but 
every engine-driver is his friend. At night 
he follows home his engine-driver of the day, 
never leaving him, or letting him out of his 
sight until they are back in the railway- 
station in the morning, when he starts off on 
19 289 


another of his ceaseless journeyings. I have 
not seen him on our line for some time ; but 
noticed with regret last time he was in the 
station that he was showing signs of age, and 
limping as he walked. 




{Sept. 21, 1895.] 

KNOWING your constant sympathy with the 
canine race, I venture to enclose some ex- 
tracts from the Adelaide Observer concerning 
a well-known character in the Colony. 


" It is but seldom that we feel called upon 
to record the death of a member of the canine 
family, but the demise of Bob, the well- 
known railway dog, will be mourned by many 
of our rising youth, and evoke a sigh from 
the travelling public and railway employes, 
among whom Bob was a great favourite. 
It was customary for Bob, whilst spending 
a few days in the city, to pay frequent visits 
to Mr. Evans's butcher shop in Hindley- 
street for meals. On Monday afternoon he 
was given his third meal by Mr. F. J. 
Preston, an employ^ of Mr. Evans, when 
shortly afterwards, about 3.10 p.m., he barked 
at a passing dog, and then, with a pitiful 


whine, fell dead. He was about seventeen 
years of age, and had only a few days ago 
returned from a trip to Broken Hill. Mr. 
L. M. Tier has claimed the body of the dog, 
and Mr. Nathan, in accordance with a pro- 
mise made some months ago, will stuff it. 
A correspondent some time ago wrote the 
following interesting particulars about Bob's 
life : ' There is only one privileged indivi- 
dual in the province permitted at all times to 
use the Government railways without pay- 
ment, and, further, without a pass. Even 
the late Chairman Smith has been asked for 
his ticket, and the importunate porter would 
take no excuse ; but ' franked ' on all lines, 
and on engine, in van, or carriage alike, the 
one constant traveller, who acts as though 
he believed the railways were made for him, 
is our hero. You may meet him to-day on 
the Serviceton line, and next week at Oodna- 
datia. He is well known in the Adelaide 
Station, and his friendly salute is often heard 
from the open window of a carriage on the 
Port line, as he enjoys a suburban trip. He 
is always welcome in the porters'-room, but 


his favourite place is on a Yankee engine ; 
the big whistle and belching smokestack 
seem to have an irresistible attraction for 
him. His acquaintances on all lines are 
numerous, and he often engages in such 
lengthy salutations that the train by which 
he has been travelling starts without him ; 
but he is never left behind, as he has a 
perfect knowledge of how to mount a train 
in motion. He is not particular as to how 
far he goes in any given direction. He has 
set out for a hundred- mile trip, but suddenly 
changed his mind and also his engine at a 
roadside station, and come straight back 
again. He lives on the fat of the land, and 
he is not particular from whom he accepts 
his dinner. All the members of the staff 
contribute willingly to his needs, and he 
reciprocates these good offices by refusing to 
reply to any appeals from the ordinary 
public. It is very clearly established that 
his sympathies are with the railway men, 
though he is not on the committee of the 


" I had the honour of the acquaintance of 
Bob, the railway dog, and I must say that 
he was one of Nature's canine gentlemen," 
writes Hugh Kalyptus, " always self-pos- 
sessed, dignified without hauteur, friendly 
without being familiar, and courteous, in- 
asmuch as he would always rise when 
addressed, pay attention to what was said to 
him, and never treat anyone superciliously, 
as I have seen many bipeds do. Bob 
made no difference between fustian and 
broadcloth. He was what I call a well- 
balanced Democrat, making no invidious 
distinctions, but treating all classes with 
courtesy, born of a correctly cast character. 
I have seldom seen a man with a -more 
marked character than Bob. Although a 
notability, he never seemed conscious of it, 
but would walk the platform of a station 
anywhere between here and the end of the 
railway system in a calm self-contained style, 
like a person who had travelled much, 
accepting the greetings of his various friends 
as with the air of an equal, and it mattered 
not to him whether a lord, a statesman, or a 


mere member of the mob patted his head, 
he wagged his tail and walked on his wise 
way. Bob had a capital memory, and 
woe betide the person who treated him dis- 
courteously he would cut him dead the 
next time. On one occasion an official 
employed on one of the stations of the 
Northern line, being a little lax in the liver, 
had the presumption to kick Bob out of 
his way as he lay sunning himself on the 
platform waiting for a train. Bob never 
got out at that station again. He cut the 
station and its official dead ; and, if he had a 
legacy to leave, it would not be that man's 
name that would be mentioned in Bob's 
will. I remember once in the course of a 
several-hundred-mile bicycle trip I struck a 
wayside station, and was entertained by 
Bob with all the cordiality with which a 
gentlemanly dog of confirmed character 
greets one whom he knows to be a firm 
friend of his race. He took a great interest 
in my faithful ' Tyler ' bicycle, and, sitting 
down at my side, sedately watched every 
detail of the cleaning up, oiling, and other 


incidental operations. The work appeared 
to secure his approval, and he gravely walked 
round the machine three times, examining 
all the parts, and, as nearly as a dog could, 
said, ' That's all right ; she'll do now/ and 
he politely accompanied me to the ticket- 
office, watched the booking process, and 
saw the bicycle safely disposed in the van. 
I thought it very kind and attentive of 
him ; he had evidently often seen the 
engine-drivers cleaning up their engines, 
and regarded my performance as something 





[Oct. 19, 1895.] 

BOB, the South Australian railway dog, 
has ended his eventful career, which is, I 
think, worthy of notice in the Spectator* 
Like many other clever dogs, he was of un- 
certain breed. As a puppy he was attached 
to a rabbiting party in our North country, 
and, while still young, was given to a railway 
guard, with whom he travelled for some time, 
having been taught to jump into the van, our 
narrow-gauge lines having no platforms. 
Bob very soon came to consider himself 
as one of the railway staff, and although civil 
to passengers who spoke to him, he never 
made friends with any but railway employes, 
whom he seemed instinctively to recognise. 
The engine-drivers and stokers were his 
special friends, and for many years he 
travelled all over the South Australian lines, 
and occasionally over those connected with 
them in the other Colonies. His favourite 
* See also Spectator for September 2 1 . 


seat was on the tender, and his whole 
demeanour showed that he considered him 
self an important adjunct to the locomotive. 
He belonged to the department, not to any 
individual driver, and I have seen him jump 
off one engine and join another, apparently 
without any reason, when passing at small 
roadside stations hundreds of miles from the 
terminus. His licence was always paid for 
by the men, and he wore a collar which bore 
the legend : " Stop me not but let me jog, I 
am Bob, the drivers' dog." The interest of 
his career lies in the fact that he attached 
himself to the locomotives, recognised no 
individual as master, and no house as home. 
He seemed to travel from pure enjoyment of 
movement, and was quite as much at home 
in the small up-country stations as in the 
city. He never seemed to be in a hurry, 
often remaining in the station till the last 
moment and joining the engine just as it 
started. He was well fed, and in spite of 
numerous predictions to the contrary, was not 
killed by accident on the line, but died in town 
at a good old age. ALEX. B. MONCRIEFF. 



[Dec. 21, 1895.] 

WHENEVER I sent the shepherd with sheep to 
the local auction the shepherd went in front, 
and Turk, a cross between a retriever and 
collie, followed leisurely behind. He helped 
to put the sheep in the allotted pens, and 
then while the shepherd betook himself to a 
neighbouring "pub," Turk lay down before 
the pens. He always stayed there until the 
auctioneer came along and sold the sheep. 
Turk watched him carefully as he went 
from one pen to the other ; and as soon as 
the hammer had fallen on the last pen, he 
wended his way to the publichouse, found the 
shepherd, and went home with him. Subse- 
quently be became both blind and deaf, and 
quite incapable of work. He also took to 
coming into the house and lying there ; and 
as my children are little, and consider all dogs 
their particular playmates, and as Turk's 


temper became uncertain, I was obliged to 
have him shot. I feel sure if I could have 
explained the matter to him he would have 
recognised the justice of the decree. 




[Oct. 26, 1895.] 

A NEIGHBOUR of mine has a young collie 
which sleeps in the kitchen, where is kept 
during the night the key of the gate of the 
yard. The yard-man on his arrival in the 
morning is accustomed to tap at the kitchen 
window for the key, which the maid- servant 
then hands to him through the bars of the 
gate. One morning lately the maid happened 
to be out of the kitchen when the man 
tapped, and the dog (who must have realised 
the meaning of the taps) took the key in his 
mouth and carried it to the man at the gate. 
The dog is very highly bred, but has never 
been taught to fetch or carry, and is only 
about a year old. 




{Oct. 26, 1895.] 

OF the telling of many stories of cats and 
dogs there is no end, and much reading of 
them is a delight to the flesh. Here is a 
genuine one told to me by a dear and most 
trustworthy friend an incumbent in York- 
shire. His dog had certain religious instincts, 
and when he saw the books brought out for 
evening prayers, retired to his corner. One 
evening they were brought out while he was 
gnawing a bone. Instinctively he dropped it 
and withdrew. The cat, being a pagan and 
carnivorous, took possession of the bone. 
The dog glowered at her, but budged not an 
inch. Scarcely had the last " Amen " sounded, 
when he made one spring. The fate of that 
cat I have not words to describe. 




[Oct. 26, 1895.] 

A FEW weeks ago 1 sent you a dog story. I 
beg now to send you another, related to me 
by the Bishop of Wakefield, when he was 
rector of Whittington, in the county of Salop. 
Dr. How is, I believe, a Shrewsbury man, 
and is therefore well acquainted with many a 
Salopian family. Well, in Shrewsbury a 
certain family had a dog of a religious turn 
of mind, who regularly attended the family 
prayers. When the bell rang for morning 
and evening prayer, the dog invariably 
accompanied the household into the room 
where prayers were said. Of course, each 
member of the family would kneel . down, 
leaning upon a chair and with the head bowed 
down, supported by the hands and arms. 
The dog would copy this example exactly. 
He would sit upon his hind-legs, and in that 
way copy the kneeling of the family. Then, 
in order to copy the arms resting on the chair 
and the head in the hands, the dog would 
put his forelegs on the chair and his head 



down between them. He would remain in 
this attitude until prayers were over, and 
then, when the family rose, he would also 
rise, and perhaps leave the room with some 
members of the household. 




[Oct. 26, 1895.] 

MAY I be allowed to add one more to the dog 
stories which have appeared in the Spectator ? 
When my brothers and I were young, 
we had a white French poodle as our friend 
and constant companion. He was a strong, 
muscular dog, standing, I should think, 
about 1 8 in. high at the shoulder, and quite 
the most intelligent dog I have ever known. 
Among other accomplishments, we had 
taught him to climb a ladder. He went up 
very cleverly, and could sometimes turn 
round and come down ; but he could not 
always depend upon doing this successfully, 
and occasionally he slipped and came down 
with a run, but we were always there to 
catch him, so no harm was done. The dog 
was inordinately fond of running after stones, 
and was seldom without one in his mouth. 
In those days, I am afraid, we were hardly 
alive to the grinding effect of stones upon the 
teeth. In the part of Devonshire in which 
we lived there had been a great deal of 


mining for copper, and there were various 
workings, old and new, on my father's estate. 
In a wood, which stood on the side of a steep 
hill, not half-a-mile from the house, a gallery, 
or " adit," as it is called locally, had been 
driven into the hill-side in the hope of inter- 
secting at a lower level a lode which had 
shown itself above. To those who passed 
down the main path of the wood this adit 
showed itself as a cave, quite dark within. 
Going that way one day with my brothers 
and having the poodle's stone in my hand, 
I idly and thoughtlessly threw it into the 
mouth of the adit. The dog rushed after it, 
and to my surprise and horror, we heard the 
stone fall, and immediately afterwards the 
dog. This told us that there was a shaft in 
the adit, a most unusual thing ; we listened 
but could hear no sound, and we had not a 
doubt that the dog had been killed ; one 
thing surprised us, it was well known to us 
that all disused shafts had water at the 
bottom, but we could hear by the sound of 
the fall that it had not been into water. The 
loss of our favourite was a terrible blow, but 


we determined, if it were possible, to ascer 
tain his fate, and at least to recover his body. 
We rushed home, procured the longest ladder 
we could find on the emergency, a rope, a 
lantern, with a long string attached to it, and 
a couple of men. I should think the ladder 
was about 22 ft. long, With these we went 
to the adit ; on letting down the lantern into 
the shaft, there we saw the dog on the ledge 
of rock or earth, looking up and apparently 
none the worse for his fall. We lowered the 
ladder by the rope, one of us intending to go 
down and carry him up, but we found the 
ladder was not long enough to reach from 
the ledge where the dog was standing to the 
edge of the shaft ; and this presented a 
difficulty which we began to discuss. How- 
ever, no sooner was the ladder fixed than the 
dog began to climb it, and our shouts could 
not prevent him. As the ladder did not 
quite reach to the edge of the shaft we feared 
that when he got to the top he might slip and 
have another fall, and this time probably to 
the bottom of the shaft, for we could see that 
all was dark beyond the ledge on which he 


had been standing; owing to some mining 
freak the shaft had stopped here, but had 
been sunk again a few feet to the right. Up 
came the dog ; the longest of us bent over 
the edge of the shaft, the others holding on 
by his heels, he just managed to reach the 
scruff of the dog's neck, and hauled him up ; 
and there he was among us safe, and show- 
ing every sign of gladness to be with us 
again. I can hardly say what form our re- 
joicings took at the moment, but the dog was 
a more beloved companion than ever. He 
did not show the slightest sign of having 

been hurt by the fall. 




\Sept. 21, 1895.] 

I HAVE a fox-terrier whose idiosyncrasies 
excite much interest. Professor Lloyd 
Morgan, of University College, Bristol, 
chronicled the same in one of his articles 
dealing with animal instinct. This dog 
never sees a match lighted without attempting 
to put it out, and jumps and snaps at it in a 
most excited manner. When he was quite 
young, I dropped something on the floor, 
and as it was growing dark, lit a candle and 
stooped down to look for it. The dog jumped 
at the candle and extinguished it. I thought 
it was done by accident, and relit it. The 
animal snapped again at the flame, and again 
put it out. He has often singed himself sub- 
sequently, but has always persevered, when 
permitted, till he has put out a match lighted 
and held within jumping reach, or a lighted 
candle ; but as paraffin lamps are used in our 
house, we have thought it rather dangerous 
to encourage his proclivity lest it might lead 
to accident. He also, if a small pair of 


tongs be taken out of the fireplace and 
given to him, behaves in a most singular 
manner, whining over them most plaintively, 
seizing them in his teeth, and then letting 
them go again, and whining as if begging 
them not to hurt him, just as in " Robinson 
Crusoe," Friday is said to have talked to the 
gun. We can only account for this by the 
fact that, when a very young dog, one of the 
servants threatened to pinch him with the 
tongs perhaps she actually did so ; but the 
reason for his light-extinguishing propensity 
is totally an enigma to us. 


[Sept. 28, 1895.] 

THE story in the Spectator of September 21, 
reminds me that I once possessed a dog who 
had precisely the same trick of attacking fire 
as that mentioned by your correspondent. 
He was a red Irish terrier that I bought in 
Kildare when so young that I am sure he 
had not been taught the trick. He would 
4< paw " at a lighted match on the ground, or 


would seize in his teeth a lighted piece of 
paper and shake it till he had put it out. In 
the same way he would " worry " at a cigar 
end thrown on the ground, and never leave 
it till he was satisfied there was no fire left. 
I may mention that he once, in Canada, killed 
single-handed a skunk an animal which, as 
a rule, it is said a dog will not face. I 
wished myself he had not, as for months 
afterwards his presence was evident long 
before one saw him, on a wet day 





[Sept. 28, 1895.] 

THE following notes relating to Crib, a white 
bull-terrier, were dictated by his owner, 
William Essex, iron warehouseman, who had 
charge of a horse : 

41 Being away for a day, another man was 
left in charge of the horse. Crib took 
possession of the stable, and would not let 
him go in to feed the horse. One of the 
blacksmiths thought of a plan, went into the 
next yard and shouted ' Essex ! ' Crib ran 
out to see where Essex was, and they shut 
the door for the man to attend to the horse. 
Crib frequently went with my fellow-work- 
man, George Harcourt, home to meals. On 
one occasion he missed him. When he (Har- 
court) came back from breakfast, he told the 
dog he ought to have gone, as he had a lot of 
small bones for him ; but he must go up to 
dinner with him. Taking him at dinner- 
time, he told his wife he had brought Crib 
to have the bones. She replied, ' You had 
not been gone ten minutes from breakfast 


before he came and had them.' He had 
never been known to go there by himself 
before. An old man, a Quaker named 
Fletcher, lodged with me, and would fre- 
quently take Crib a walk. Going across 
Merstowe Green the clock commenced strik- 
ing the quarters for five, which was my tea- 
time. At the first stroke of the clock, the 
dog stood still, put his head on one side, and 
attentively listened till the clock struck five. 
With the last stroke, Crib turned round, ran 
home, and met me as I went to tea. We 
had been at opposite ends of the town. Mr. 
Fletcher arriving at home, the first word was 
to my wife, ' Mary, what time did Crib 
come home ? ' ' About three minutes past 
five.' ' O, beggar him, he knows what 
o'clock it is ; for as soon as it began striking 
he stood still and listened ; and as soon as it 
had struck the last stroke he ran back home.' 
On another occasion I and Thomas Handy 
were at work in my cellar. Handy, seated 
on the second step, pulled out a packet of 
lollipops, asked me to take one, asked Crib 
to take one, took one himself, screwed the 


paper up, and put it in his pocket. Crib 
then left the cellar. In about fifteen minutes 
Handy asked me to have another, put his 
hand in his pocket, and cried out, ' That 
d d dog 'a got 'em/ Crib had meantime 
besn up the cellar steps on his left hand side, 
picked his pocket unperceived, returned on 
his right-hand side, gone into the back 
kitchen, opened the paper, which he left there 
empty, and quietly enjoyed what he had 
quietly stolen. On another occasion we had 
young potatoes for dinner. As we could not 
mash them with the gravy, Crib would not 
eat them, licked all gravy from the potatoes, 
hooked them off the plate and placed them 
out of sight under the rim. My wife went 
into the back kitchen to see if he had eaten 
his dinner, and said, ' There's a good dog for 
eating the 'taters.' Crib looked up, wagging 
his tail, with a ' bow-wow.' As soon as she 
stooped to pick up the plate he dropped his 
tail, went into the front room, and ran under 
the easy-chair out of sight. My wife called 
the rest of the family to see the potatoes 
in a perfect ring under the edge of the plate. 


On Sunday night my wife put my everyday 
working-jacket in my elbow-chair for Crib 
to sleep on as usual. He went and looked 
at the coat, then crossed the room, looked at 
and smelt my black Sunday coat. My wife 
asked him, ' Do you want Daddy's Sunday 
coat ? ' and he answered with a ' bow-wow.' 
She took the coat, removed the one that 
he was in, and before she could place the 
other, Crib was in the chair. She took 
the coat, remarking that he could not 
have the Sunday coat, and replaced 
the other. Looking very disappointed he 
jumped down, and remained all night on 
the cold stones. The undisturbed cushion 
showed that he never went to his usual bed. 
Crib always took tea, but would not drink it 
except from my wife's saucer, which was dif- 
ferent from the rest. If it was given in any 
other he would go and look, but would not 
touch it till it was put in my wife's saucer. 
Being a Good Templar I was accustomed to 
take from home a jug of cold water on 
'Lodge' night, Friday. Crib unperceived 
followed us one night. He was admitted, 


properly clothed in the regalia (the broad 
ribbon being put round his neck and crossed 
over his back), sat very quiet and looked 
very pleased for an hour and a quarter. 
From that time we could never keep him 
from ' Lodge.' Afterwards when the jug was 
placed on the table before starting from 
home, if the door was open, he would im- 
mediately start and go to the lodge room in 
the next street. Crib's master was caretaker 
of the Friends' Meeting House, the door of 
his house opening into the passage up which 
the Friends had to pass. Crib would lie still 
and take not the slightest notice whilst the 
Friends belonging to Evesham went up the 
passage. Should a stranger be with them, 
Crib would bark the moment an unaccus- 
tomed step was heard. At one time there 
was something wrong with Crib internally. 
When the pain came on, he would set up his 
back, go round and round and cry out most 
piteously. I was recommended to give him 
laudanum. When he found the pain coming 
on, he would stand and look up at the bottle 
on the shelf, then look at my wife or 


daughter, then at the bottle, jump up in the 
big chair and lie quiet for a dose of laudanum. 
This he did twenty times. Poor Crib went 
mad, and had to be destroyed in his eleventh 
year, September, 1874." 




[Sept. 28, 1895.] 

As your readers seem interested in stories of 
canine sagacity and cleverness, I gladly send 
you a short account of a small spaniel's 
singular action and acuteness of thought. A 
few days ago I was taking a walk before 
breakfast in some fields near my house, 
accompanied by my little dog. I did not 
pay much attention to her doings, but noticed 
she was running about as if in search of 
game. However, on my way home I found 
the dog was unwilling to follow me. She all 
the time wished to turn back. She would 
follow a few yards behind if I went on ; but 
if I looked round she would immediately 
pause, and then make her way back towards 
the fields. This happened several times 
At last I concluded that the spaniel had 
some object in view in wishing to retrace her 
steps, and so I returned with her, she 
leading the way and I following. She went 
straight to a rabbit, and bolted it. We had 


a good chase, and at last succeeded in 
catching the rabbit. 

Now, the dog had evidently discovered 
the rabbit on its form when ranging about 
the fields, but thought it unsafe to start it in 
my absence, for I had left the fields and was 
now on the high-road. She clearly wanted 
my help and encouragement in the chase. 
I would observe that we have here an 
instance of great caution on the part of the 
dog. Her natural impulse would be to start 
the rabbit at once and pursue it. This 
impulse the dog checked. Moreover, I 
would point out that my little bitch seemed 
to exercise her reasoning powers, and that 
in a marked way. She, as it were, said to 
herself: "I will not bolt the rabbit in the 
absence of my master. I will run after him 
and bring him back, and then, encouraged 
and helped by him, I shall start the rabbit, 
and, if possible, catch it." I consider that 
my little dog showed that it possessed the 
faculty of reasoning in checking its natural 
impulse, which would lead it to spring at the 
rabbit at once, and also in fetching me back 



to be a witness and a helper in the chase 
that ensued. All her actions manifested 
caution, sagacity, and the possession as well 
as the exercise of the faculty of reason. 




{Aug. 10, 1895.] 

AMONG your numerous dog stories perhaps 
the following may find a place. I have a 
Skye terrier puppy, only nine months old. 
On Thursday afternoon my son and a friend 
took him from here outside an omnibus to 
Coleridge's village, Nether Stovvey, nine 
miles nearly due west. They then walked 
to another village, Stoke Conrey, three miles 
to the north. Leaving him outside the 
church for a few minutes, he had disappeared 
when they left it, and the only trace of him 
that could be found was the report of some 
men who had seen him running over a hill 
still further to the north. On Friday night, 
at 12.30, he reappeared at home. He must 
have either retraced his steps to Nether 
Stowey, and then come home by the road 
the omnibus went by, two sides of a triangle, 
twelve miles, or else come home by the main 
road from Stoke Conrey, a most complicated 


and winding road, nine miles, which he had 
never seen before. Either feat seems rather 
startling from such a canine baby, and makes 
his name, " Teufel," rather appropriate. 

E. T. PAGE. 


Adventure, A Dog's, 307 
Affection, 106 
Affection, A Dog's, 105 
Alpine Dog, An, 63 
Animal Intelligence, 68 
Animals and Language, 72 
Animals, Communication 

with, 77 
Animals, Friendships of 

Dogs with other, 135 
Animals, How our Meaning 

is Conveyed to, 65 
Animals, The Courage of, 


Are Dogs Colour-blind ? 213 
Arts, Dogs and the, 119 
Australian Dog Story, 203 
Australian Railway Dog, 

Bob the, 287 
Automata, Conscious, 136 

BIOGRAPHY of Sprig, 237 
Bob, the Australian Railway 

Dog, 287 
Boundary, Sense of, in 

Dogs, 260 
Bully's Short Cut, 30 

CANARY, Dog and, 150 
Canine Friendship, An Act 

of, 153 

Canine Intelligence, 32 
Canine Jealousy, 113 
Canine Member of the 

S.P.C.A., no 
Canine Nurse, A, 147 
Canine Sightseer, A, 44 
Cat-and-Dog Friendship, 256 
Cat-and-Dog Love, 151 
Cat's Paw, A Story of a, 233 
Cautious Dogs, 61 
Character of a Dog, Features 

in the, 26 

Clever Hunter, A, 320 
Collie's Intelligence, A, 303 
Collies at Work, 191, 192 
Colour-blind? Are Dogs, 213 
Commercial Treaty between 

Dog and Hen, 19 
Communication, Teaching 

Dogs a Method of, 74 
Communication with Ani- 
mals, 77 
Conscience - stricken Dog, 

A, 103 
Conscious Automata, 136 



Courage of Animals, The, 


Courtesy, A Dog's, 112 
Cow's, A, Jealousy of a Dog, 


Crib, 314 

Cunning Dogs, 170 
Curious Friendship, A, 148 
Curious Habits of Dogs, 155 
Cut, Bully's Short, 30 

DECEIVERS, Dog, 173 
Dinner, A Dog and his, 163 
Dog, A, and a Rabbit, 141 
Dog, A, and a Whip, 170 
Dog, A, and his Dinner, 163 
Dog, A Conscience-stricken, 


Dog, A Jealous, 115 
Dog, A, Obeying a Sum- 
mons, 210 
Dog, A, on Long Sermons, 


Dog, A Parcel-carrying, 47 

Dog, A Praying, 305 

Dog, A Religious, 304 

Dog, A Ruse", 171 

Dog, A Sunday, 197 

Dog, A, that Scorned to be 
Jealous, 116 

Dog, A, with Injured Feel- 
ings, 283 

Dog, An Alpine, 63 

Dog and Canary, 150 

Dog and Hen, Commercial 
Treaty between, 19 

Dog and his Master's Grave, 

Dog and Kittens, 145 
Dog and Pigeon, 139 
Dog and the Ferry, 33 
Dog and the Matches, 311 
Dog Consciousness, 228 
Dog, Cow's Jealousy of a, 200 
Dog Deceivers, 173 
Dog, Features in the Cha- 
racter of a, 26 
Dog Friends, 133, 285 
Dog Friendships, 131 
Dog, Funeral Offerings by a, 

Dog, Intelligent Suspicion 

in a, 6 1 

Dog Nurse, A, 20 
Dog Story, A, 230 
Dog Story, A, 254 
Dog Story, An Australian, 


Dog, Sympathy in a, 107 
Dog, The, and the Hot 

Bottle, 263 
Dog, The, that Buried the 

Frogs, 157 
Dog, The, that Heard he did 

not Give Satisfaction, 267 
Dog's Adventure, A, 307 
Dog's Affection, A, 105 
Dog's Courtesy, A, 112 
Dog's Humanit)', A, 108 
Dog's Mind, A Sheep-, 301 
Dog's Remorse, A, 101 
Dogs and Human Speech, 


Dogs and Language, 64 
Dogs and Looking-glasses, 




Dogs and the Arts, 119 
Dogs and their Power to 

Feel Emotion, 271 
Dogs, Cautious, 61 
Dogs, Cunning, 170 
Dogs, Curious Habits of, 


Dogs, Emotion and Senti- 
ment in, 99 

Dogs, Emotion of Grief in, 


Dogs, Guardian, 179 
Dogs, Homing Instinct in, 


Dogs, Hospital, 22 
Dogs, Humour and Cunning 

in, 165 
Dogs, Instinct of Locality 

in, 83 

Dogs, Music and, 121 
Dogs, Power of Imitation in, 


Dogs, Purchasing, 51 
Dogs, Railway, 94 
Dogs, Reason of, 37 
Dogs, Reasoning Powers of, 


Dogs, Recognition of Like- 
nesses by, 124 

Dogs, Sense of Boundary in, 

Dogs, Sense of Humour in, 
168, 169 

Dogs, Sentiment and Emo- 
tion in, 99 

Dogs, Syllogistic, 14 

Dogs, Teaching a Method 
of Communication to, 74 

Dogs, The, that Showed 
where the Kitten was 
Hidden, 265 

Dogs, Two Anecdotes of, 206 

Dogs, Useful, 177 

Duchess, How Wrinkle 
Mourned for, 277 

EMOTION and Sentiment in 

Dogs, 99 
Emotion, Dogs and their 

Power to Feel, 271 
Emotion of Grief in Dogs, 

Explanation, An, 159 

FEATURES in the Character 

of a Dog, 26 
Ferry, Dog and the, 33 
Foreknowledge of Death ? 

Have Animals a, 221 
Four-footed Friends, Our, 


Friends, Dog, 133, 285 
Friendship, A Cat-and-Dog, 


Friendship, A Curious, 148 
Friendship, An Act of 

Canine, 153 
Friendships, Dog, 131 
Friendships of Dogs with 

other Animals, 135 
Frogs, The Dog that Buried 

the, 157 
Funeral Offerings by a Dog, 

3 75 

GRAVE, Dog and his Master's, 


"Greyfriars' Bobby," 281 
Grief, Emotion of, in Dogs, 

Guardian Dogs, 179 

HABITS of Dogs, Curious, 


Have Animals a Foreknow- 
ledge of Death ? 221 

Hen and Puppies, 137 

Hen, Commercial Treaty be- 
tween Dog and a, 19 

Homing Instinct in Dogs, 


Hospital Dogs, 22 
Humanity, A Dog's, 108 
Humour and Cunning in 

Dogs, 165 
Hunter, A Clever, 320 

INJURED Feelings, A Dog 
with, 283 

Instinct, Maternal, in Ani- 
mals, 219 

Instinct of Locality in Dogs, 


Instinct, or Reason ? 21 
Intelligence, A Collie's, 303 
Intelligence, A Pug's, 211 
Intelligence, Animal, 68 
Intelligence, Canine, 32 
Intelligent Suspicion in a 

Dog, 61 

JEALOUS Dog, A, 115 
Jealous, Dog that Scorned to 

be, 116 
Jealousy, Canine, 113 


Joe and the Tennis Tourna- 

ment, 269 
KITTENS, Dog and, 145 

LANGUAGE, Animals and, 72 
Language, Dogs and, 64 
Likenesses, Recognition of, 

by Dogs, 124 
Locality in Dogs, Instinct 

of, 83 
Looking-glasses, Dogs and, 


Love, Cat and Dog, 151 
Lucky and Unlucky, 214 

MATCHES, Dog and the, 311 

Maternal Instinct in Ani- 
mals, 219 

Meaning, How Conveyed to 
Animals, 65 

Method of Communication, 
Teaching Dogs a, 74 

Mind, A Sheep Dog's, 301 

Music and Dogs, 121 

NURSE, A Canine, 147 
Nurse, A Dog, 20 

OUR Four-footed Friends, 


Pictures, Recognition by 

Animals of, 129 
Pigeon, Dog and, 139 
Pigeon Story, 144 



Plan, Thinking out a, 45 
Power of Imitation in Dogs, 

Powers, Reasoning, of Dogs, 


Praying Dog, A, 305 
Pug's Intelligence, A, 211 
Puppies, Hen and, 137 
Purchasing Dogs, 51 

Rabbit, A Dog and a, 141 
Railway Dogs, 94, 287 
Reason, Instinct or, 21 
Reason of Dogs, 37 
Reasoning Powers of Dogs, 


Recognition by Animals of 

Pictures, 129 
Recognition of Likenesses; 

by Dogs, 124 
Religious Dog, A, 304 
Remorse, A Dog's, 101 

Heard he did not Give, 267 

Sense of Humour in Dogs, 
168, 169 

Short Cut, Bully's, 30 

Sight-seer, A Canine, 44 
S.P.C.A., A Canine Member 

of the, no 

Sprig, Biography of, 237 
Summons, A Dog Obeying 

a, 210 

Sunday Dog, A, 197 
Suspicion, Intelligent, in a 

Dog, 61 

Syllogistic Dogs, 14 
Sympathy in a Dog, 107 

TEACHING Dogs a Method 
of Communication, 74 

Tennis Tournament, Joe and 
the, 269 

Thinking out a Plan, 45 

Dog and Hen, 19 

True Watch-dog, A, 188 

UNLUCKY, Lucky and, 214 
Useful Dogs, 177 

WATCH-DOG, A True, 188 
Whip, A Dog and a, 170 
Wrinkle, How, Mourned for 
Duchess, 277 

University of California 


305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 

Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 

01 APR 1 n 2001